There comes a time in the life of all running shoes when you look at them fondly in the hallway where you dumped them knowing deep down that the end is imminent.
They don’t stand proud like they used to, they are lean on one side, the white bits all grey and the flashy bright bits a little duller than before. You know in your heart of hearts that they are about to die.
But boy what a journey we have been on hey?
I must admit it wasn’t quite love at first sight when we initially met. I wanted the brighter, lighter Nike’s I had tried on in the shop but what you lacked in style you made up for in support ten times over…and in fact you even helped correct my bad running form and dodgy knees, well you and the identical pair I had before you.
The moment we went out on that first training run I knew we were going to get along, you have been so good to me ever since. Even when I made you come on a 26.2 mile trot around London that time you were kind to me leaving me with nothing more than bruised toenails and the tiniest of blisters…I guess we should have called it quits then really, I mean we had more than covered the distance but no I kept on with you putting in the hours refusing to give up.
You put up with so much from me too, taking the strain mile after mile, anyone else would have given up with me long ago, but you just kept on supporting me helping cushion the blow when things were hard. I wasn’t always that kind to you either I wore you for Zumba a few times which I guess wasn’t quite your thing, and at Parkrun over xmas when everyone else had the sense to wear their trail shoes…I really did put you through some shit…and for that I am sorry.
But hang on you are not completely to blame in all of this. Particularly when your laces kept untying without notice, and the bit by my ankle started to disintegrate…that was hugely embarrassing amongst my peers.
Sorry…I am being too tough on you. I didn’t mind your recent grubbiness really, or the fact I had to get new insoles in a final bid to stretch out your lifespan. I can’t even bring myself to think about how far we travelled together, but the Brighton Marathon was the final straw…one marathon is more than most pairs of shoes can expect but two? I knew I was pushing it but I had left it too late to trade you in for a newer model by then, even though you were quite literally falling apart at the seams by this point.
So with two marathons in the bag I am afraid to say that I really do have to call it a day and accept that it would be cruel of me to expect anything more from you, you are old, infirm and well simply just past it…the phrase one foot in the grave springs to mind.
I have traded you in for a newer model, but we won’t go into details as that wouldn’t be fair…all I can say is they are not Nikes if that makes you feel any better. I guess I just need to work out what to do with you now? It seems a little insensitive to put you in the dustbin with the trash, you helped me achieve so much but I can hardly keep you hanging around hoping in vain that I will wear you again…I won’t!!
Help me out?
What should I do with you?
I doubt anyone else will want you now they know what we have been getting up to!
Where do trainers go when they die anyway?
