I need new running shoes. I have finally admitted it to myself. Most runners love new kicks; some change them religiously every 300 miles, or even have more than one pair at a time and interchange them to not wear them down. I am not like these runners. I tend to beat mine till a hole appears, or in this case, till the grips are completely gone.
I only noticed that I no longer had grips last Friday while skidding across the wet paths in the park. So, I laced up my shoes for one final run with them this morning. As I contemplated our time together I felt inspired to come out of my blog writing hibernation:
My Nikes and my relationship started online. It was October 2019, I had a full-time job, was without children, and consequently had more disposable income (currently I freelance, have two children, and am constantly in a liquidity crunch). The algorithm gods found out that I was in the market for new running shoes, and sent me this ad on my Instagram page:
As my running shoes aesthetic is worn and used, it was love at first sight! Thoughts of wearing these shoes and the promise of never having a running injury again consumed my thoughts. I was also beginning my second trimester pregnant with Alba, and I convinced myself the extra cushioning would be good for my heavier gait. I spoke about these shoes non-stop until I finally cracked and bought them.
They were a beauty to behold, and I ran with them through my pregnancy. I also walked daily 7kms with them in the last month in attempts to urge her out…quite unsuccessfully. However, I loved them, and they loved me.
After Alba came, I was able to resume running after a few weeks and thus began our summer romance. 5kms turned into 10kms and then there was an early winter half marathon. 2020-2021 was a year of blissful running. Anxiety from covid, lockdown, being a new mum, quitting my job, starting freelancing, and a baby that seemed (seems) to not need much sleep, had me lacing up my shoes often. I found solace in the quiet, empty streets, and the gentle thud of my feet on the pavement. I jogged joyously right into my second pregnancy.
I didn’t run as often or as long during this pregnancy. Recovery from the first c-section taught me that no matter how much you work out during your pregnancy, you still have to start back from point zero after a child, so I decided to cut a dash and eat melted cheese sandwiches instead. I still ran 2-3 times weekly but never more than 7km. Then when Miss Maria Pilar decided to lie sideways in my tummy at 35 weeks, it put an early stop to my pregnancy runs.
After Pilar, I started back running around the same time as with Alba. However, she is a gentle spirit, and that must have rubbed off on me a bit because it has been a more moderate approach…or maybe I’m just more tired?
By now though, just under four years since we first met, I’ve been taking my shoes for granted. I hadn’t thought about them much before last Friday. They are dirty, they are comfy, they are worn out, they are home, and I love them. However, my real love is running so if we’re to continue, I must now bid these shoes farewell. So, with that dear Nikes, Adieu.
