The Retiring of a Pair of Running Shoes

    This may be kind of an odd, little post for most, but those who run will understand I think. I hope. There comes a time in the life of every pair of running shoes when it is time to be hung up; no pun intended. You can feel it coming a little at a time. They feel a little slippery on some surfaces. The heal feels hard or begins to feel as if it weren't there at all. The forefront or toebox feels hard and you begin to feel as if you are running in just socks. When your feet ache after even a short run, you know that it has become time to get rid of them. It is all very sad.

    This all may sound a little over dramatic, but if you are a runner then you will understand. A pair of running shoes are not just a regular pair of shoes that you may occasionally wear out on the town. They are something you have had on your person for over 300+ miles. That is same distance as Macon to North Carolina, or from Macon to New Orleans, or from Macon to Tampa, Fl, or from Macon to Kentucky. We aren't talking around the block. We are talking distances that make most weak in the knees, but you did not do it in a day. The shoes and two legs did it in a span of months.

  Your running shoes have felt the run beneath your feet. They have felt your body escape gravity every three strides and felt what it feels to be weightless if only for a second or so. They have felt sweat, snow, rain, mud, sand. They have watched the sun come up and the sun go down. They have brought you moments when the whole world was a trail and you were moving towards the horizon as if you were gliding with no effort at all. They have heard your curse the ground beneath you and struggle to make the next steps. They have heard you smile and con yourself into another mile long after you should have quit. They have crossed finish lines with swagger and toed starting lines with all the caution of a wise man. They have sat with you after each run. They are sitting by the stairs waiting for their next run. They do not know what sitting in the closet feels like.

   They were the shoes you stalked. The shoes you read 100 reviews about. The shoes you went and held in your hands many times before you brought them up to the checkout. They were the shoes you couldn't wait to get home, so you could try them out. And now, it is over for them. They have just grown too old. It is time for them to retire to a life of slow walks behind a lawn mower or a nap in the hammock, but it is so hard to tell a pair of racers that it is time. They take it so hard. And you know they have seen the new kicks waiting in the wings. They have heard you tell your girl about the possibilities of what the new ones will help you accomplish. They know that there are now times when they are left behind to dream of the places you have taken the new pair, but they know it is time. The ache too. Their skin is no longer thick and rough. It is smooth and worn. It is no longer new and white, but tired and dirty. They are sad the road has ended for them, but know that they have done what they were built to do. There isn't another mile left in them. They are ready for the soft grass and will only occasionally miss the road that is waiting for you and them to glide over just beyond. That has been there life's wish. To just know what is over the next hill and what lays beyond. Oh' to know what is beyond. The great, wonderful, euphoric, tragic beyond.