I’m always a sucker for the pretty sneakers. My latest set? A pastel pink pair with white soles.
At first, I selected walking routes based on the weather report. Really. For months I tiptoed around puddles and groaned when I saw some new hazard come my way.
But their demise was inevitable; I’d known this the moment I checked out at the sporting goods store. Sure enough, eventually, I came across unavoidable mud and went running on a trail that turned my soles gray.
And then, magically, it was okay. I didn’t have to tiptoe around perfection anymore because it was gone. From that moment on, walks got easier. There was an unmistakable sense of liberation…because surviving that first imperfection was the hardest.
There is also a demerit hidden in here because the “new” pair I reference in this post is actually a year old and needs to be replaced. I’ve been wearing my orthotics (gold star!) and have it on my radar to replace them soon. But then I’ll want to keep those sneakers in pristine shape and the cycle will repeat itself…