Thursday, October 24, 2013

dear neighbors who love my shoes,

can i tell you something? you crack me up.

your little comments about my shoes as i pass by...they tickle me, make me laugh a little inside each time. you all seem quite enthralled with my shoes and their wild colors. that neon yellow sole that strikes the ground like a flash (like lightening? i wish.) when my heel hits the pavement and rises again. those highlighter pink and orange stripes that dance along the sides, pulsing rhythmically with my stride.

i pass you and you comment. you like them. they're fun. they're crazy. i agree, neighbors. i'm glad you said so as you walked out of your front door and tended to your garden, as you walked past on the other side of the street, as you took your dog for a stroll and launched your boat into the river.

and to the middle aged woman sitting on your beach chair in front of your garage, just watching the cars roll by: i'm glad we carried on that conversation about my shoes. you told me you loved them and i said thanks. made some comment about how i do, too. how they are great motivation to hit the pavement. and then we talked about clouds. how my shoes must make me feel like i'm running on clouds. i wish i could tell you they did. in fact, i might have. but the truth is, woman in your beach chair, the pavement is always relentlessly hard, no matter what shoes you're wearing. it sits heavy and solid, holding up the world around it; carrying runners and walkers, strollers and dogs; letting stray furniture and overstuffed trashcans rest until they're claimed; keeping entire cars and parking lots afloat; and, sometimes, holding beach chairs and traffic watchers. the pavement isn't always kind to my shoes, or my muscles. but, neighbors, your funny little comments...they make me forget the pavement for a moment. and maybe, hopefully, my crazy, colorful shoes grab you, stun you, and make you momentarily forget your cares, too.

can i tell you something else? i retired those crazy shoes this week. the pavement had done its number on them. it tore 'em up good. those shoes endured icy snowstorms and out-of-nowhere-mid-run downpours and steamy hot pavement in the dripping heat of summer afternoons. they dipped in the stinging salt water with me after beach runs. they carried me through a half marathon and through runs that sucked so bad i walked home. i didn't know how broken and bent and tired they were until that crisp new pair came arrived in the mail, their bright white, pristine soles glimmering, not yet touched, tainted, scarred by the pavement. they are sturdy and solid and ready to do this all over again. hope you like these ones, too.

No comments:

Post a Comment