We've Come a Long Way, Baby

Being a pedestrian in Ohio during the winter is a precarious venture in a car-driven society. What normally takes me less than an hour to walk took 90 some minutes Monday as I ice-skated my way through the park.

The melt over the weekend and subsequent cold temps overnight left most sidewalks slick. Not that I'm really complaining, it made for quite a workout, and I'm sure it gave someone a good laugh. Cause I'm lousy in terms of balance and was certain I'd slide all the way down Memorial hill, along the sidewalk, directly to the bridge on my butt.

However, my running shoes and I prevailed, much to our cold and wet chagrin when all was said and done. For as I later discovered the padding has started to come off the bottom of my right shoe.

Bummer

My running shoes and I have been through a lot. I bought them a month after my grandmother died in October 2009 with the mind-set that by summer I'd be running like a gazelle. This was a gift to me, to get my health back on track, and burn off plenty of angst.

To say my running shoes have been there for me is an understatement. They have carried my body at its absolute heaviest and unhealthiest back to almost my goal weight, (Almost there!) and the best health I've had in nearly four years.

They've carried me through many frustrated runs on the treadmill as I labored to force muscles that had once been attuned to mile upon mile of bicycle riding in the far past, but hadn't been utilized in years, back into balance.

They've carried me around the high school track at a miserable and embarrassing pace earlier this summer, and supported me through multiple trips in the park in both good and bad weather. Until the day finally came when they carried me as I actually ran mile upon mile with a mind furious at work over what was next in store in my life as a newly single mother of two.

There has been many a time that I have glanced down as I either walked or ran and speculated about where next these shoes would take me. What was next in store for us and was I yet strong enough for the challenge.

Of course, I also worried endlessly about how much time the running shoes and I still had together. As I did the other day when I noted how cold and wet my right foot was once I returned home.

Is it wrong to write a love letter to your running shoes? To thank them for having endured so many trials and tribulations as they have for well over a year?

I know I have certainly got my money's worth as I look over the scrapes, worn tread, and tired laces. Signs of having been well-traveled and well-loved, much like a suitcase covered in stickers from around the world.

I realize I've worn them longer than most other runners would have, put far more mileage on them to the possible precariousness of the health of my feet or back, but I really love these shoes.

We've come a long way, baby.

The mother of two munchkins, Bethany J. Royer is an independent contractor and writer currently studying psychology with Florida Institute of Technology. She has been published in Divorce Magazine and the Garden Island newspaper and is actively seeking a publisher for her first completed novel and blogs prolifically at motherofthemunchkins.blogspot.com.

She can be reached at themotherofthemunchkins@yahoo.com.