I’m throwing out an old pair of shoes. I realize that isn’t very remarkable sounding, in and of itself, but they’re running shoes. They are, in fact, the last pair of running shoes I ever bought and the last ones I actually ran in.
I was never fast, but for most of my life, I enjoyed running for long distances. The army sucked some of the fun out of it, as it is wont to do, but I liked it enough to make it an activity that I regularly did, unforced. In the months before selection (SFAS), I even got 3rd place in my age group for a half marathon. It took place in January, was called the “Frostbite Half Marathon”, and there were only 2 other fool….I mean, runners in my age group, but I’m still proud.
I came back from my last trip overseas in the fall of 2011, knowing something was definitely wrong with me and started knocking out the things I knew about but had been ignoring. I had knee surgery before in 2002 but had torn a few things since then and had a kneecap that would occasionally end up dislocating to the outside of my leg, so I had a second knee surgery that December. After rehab, this was followed by an ankle reconstruction (modified Brostrom Gould) in the summer of 2012. You know you’ve let it go too long when the foot and ankle specialist at the teaching hospital asks if he can let some residents see this and one of the 5 who come in to see a positive ankle drawer sign asks if you were in a car wreck. After recovery and rehab, I figured I had that annoying foot drop problem fixed and was ready to get back to the way things were. To celebrate getting back to normal, I treated myself to new running shoes.
By “treating myself”, I mean I went to one of those places where they make you walk on paper with wet feet and stand on a special panel that scans your foot alignment, weight distribution, pressure points, stock portfolio, personal hygiene, etc, and recommends the right shoes for all your problems. Fortunately, lots of people had my exact foot issues because my shoes were in stock right there on the shelf and were less than twice what they would cost at a store where I just walked in and picked them out myself without expert assistance.
I got to run in them a few times, but not nearly enough to wear them out and commit them to lawn mowing duty, which is the last step, (pun 100% intended), of a shoe’s life. Instead, I kept them around wearing down the side of the toe where my foot dragged, rather than the tread and soles.
They’ve been good shoes, but they’re just an old worn out pair of shoes. It’s time….actually it’s past time to let them go, so why the mixed feelings, you ask? Ok…nobody asked, but I’ll tell you my thoughts anyway. After all, if you’ve read this far, you’re sort of obligated to finish this post.
It’s not the shoes. It’s a link, (maybe a desperate little lifeline) to the pre-disabled past. I’m in a wheelchair wearing running shoes that I’ve actually run in before. Mrs. Havisham was right, it’s perfectly fine and normal to leave out the cake and decorations til they rot.
It’s time to go on to the next chapter. I don’t have to like it, I don’t have to “embrace” it, (whatever people mean when they say that), but it’s time. Really, I’m already there, I’ve just been hanging on to the little things that make the book of my life sometimes fall open to those pages. It’s good to look back on fond moments in the story. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s normal, but the next chapter is waiting, and the next, and the next, until the book is done.
I’m getting new shoes. They’re slip on with laces for adjusting the fit…..and for show. They’re supposed to be easy for me to just slide into without the back part folding in. We’ll see when they arrive, but I have great expectations for this next step.
