A Short Shoe Story
There we were, two ragged cronies lying on the floor of the closet trying to recover from a tedious workout. The run that day proved particularly arduous. It had rained the previous night, but our owner still insisted on taking us on the trails. We attempted to veer off towards drier paths, but his legs were in control. We were not too enthusiastic, so we dragged his feet. We almost drowned in the puddles a couple of times. By the time the ordeal ended, dirt-covered our eyelets, our tongues were black, and mud packed our grooves. Stuffed with newspaper, we were afraid of being grounded to the balcony again. This usually happened after damp days when we liberated an odor that could knock out a nosy puppy. We were soggy and miserable!
Alone in the dark, we felt stepped on all over and that life dragged us down. We sense old age creeping up on us and turning us into decrepit rejects. We just did not seem to recover as quickly these days. We drooped to the inside, our bottoms were getting smoother, and our laces were fraying. We had not been washed since we were bought. We also realized that we rarely participated in fancy races anymore. We seemed only good for training and soon we would be relegated to walking. What a depressing thought!
That is when we received some unknown visitors. These guys were big, bright, and shiny. Their inner socks and high-tech torsion air wedge propulsion bar indicated they belonged in the high-priced category. The revolutionary lacing system kept them smoothly contoured. We were impressed and secretly jealous. We started chatting. The visitors noted that they belonged to a voluminous owner, a man with a big voice (some would say loudmouth), and a big ego. They shouldered tremendous pressure, noticing that their owner was slowly gaining weight. They rarely saw the light of day as they remained mostly in their box. They were a showpiece to impress others. Deep down they yearned for the great outdoors. They sense their purpose in life was to run, not to step on a gas pedal. They were the top of the line but felt like the bottom of soles.
As the visitors left with a blinking of their night light, we changed our view of the situation. We had a good life. Life was stable and cushioned. We obtained our regular exercise. We inhaled the fresh air regularly. We traveled all over the city and cruised the trails. Our owner even threaded lightly on us. We hung around friends during group runs where we discussed our injuries and our performances. We realized that our looks and condition were due to the mileage, not the years. Truly, we experienced life the way it should: covering feet and covering ground. The next time we went for a run, with our spirits raised, our owner could barely keep up with us.
