They’re old. The rubber sole has pulled away from the shoe – I’ve had them for years. I don’t even know how many it’s been? The Mr. has suggested, then offered and even tried to bypass me altogether and just replace them for me. But I refuse to let him, always reminding him that I would just go return them if he tried… And probably come home with shiny stilettos instead! I pull my athletic shoes out two or three times a year (maybe) and it’s not even for something athletic – so you can see why there is no reason to replace them. They don’t need replacing, they need dusting.
I am not athletic.
I am not grace. I am not the first one picked… or the second… or the third. In fact I was the one when everyone had been picked that the team captain who’d gotten stuck with me thought it best for his team to just offer me up to the apposing team as a freebie. I can’t blame the guy, it was a decent enough strategy and worth a try but of course the other team captain saw right through his scheme and always refused to take me. Yep, that’s how athletic I am. When high school came around and we were supposed to go running I promptly got myself a doctor’s note saying I couldn’t. Exercise is a 4-letter word in my head.
So what on Earth possessed me to decide to slip them on, tie them up and head outside for a run? I have no idea! Okay. That’s not entirely true… It may have had something to do with my 28 year old backside not resembling it’s previous counterpart from a decade ago. {Maybe} But it also might have just been because I’ve been feeling so invigorated, so affirmed in my resolutions that I thought… Why not! It can’t hurt to try it.
At least that’s what I thought until I woke up the next morning. I felt like I’d spent the last 24 hours riding full speed on a Clydesdale. But even still, I’m pushing through. I like this new me. The one who naively believes that I can do anything I put my mind to – even running. I hope nobody teaches her any better.
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