I bought a new pair of running shoes (Asics Gel Kayanos, as always) the other day, praying they would help with my tendonitis (it’s largely dissipated, but I’m paranoid since it now will always be a hot spot.)
The store I frequent, True Runner, has a large bin where you can donate your old running shoes. When I bought the new shoes, I didn’t have the old ones on me (they were in my gym bag and I was parked far away,) but I knew I would be back in the area in about a week for an appointment. So I made a mental note to bring them back then.
On my cold brisk walk to True Runner today, old shoes in hand, I had several poignant moments. It may sound silly, but I can get sentimental about the most everyday things. I think my mother read Velveteen Rabbit to me one too many times.* My old contact lenses needed to be changed every 2 weeks, and I would always look at them and think about how many faces and experiences I saw behind those lenses. (Then I literally became allergic to myself and now have daily contacts…but I still reflect on all of the marvels of a day when I take them out.)
I had these shoes for quite some time…I’m always HORRIBLE about changing shoes and tracking mileage. (#sheaskedfortendonitis) As I walked to the store, I thought about all of the miles these shoes had seen…
Miles that decimated the asphalt, stressed about divorce and money and students.
Miles that bounced sky-high, celebrating promotions and new love.
Miles that explored new terrain, be it trails or grass or new states.
Miles that ended with the familiar terrain of Starbucks or Whole Foods.
Miles that were shared with a running friend.
Miles that were shared with the varied vivacious voices blaring in my earbuds.
Every mile run is a good mile – we just don’t realize it at the time. And so I gingerly placed the shoes in the donation bin, wondering what adventures they’d witness without me.
*I confess that in putting in the link to the Velveteen Rabbit, I read the Wikipedia description and instantly teared up. Reader beware.