well, hello there
good old friend of mine
you’ve been reaching for yourself
for such a long time
there’s so much to say
no need to explain
just an open door
for you to come in from the rain
— the prophet carole bayer sager
Another round of tossing shoes.
It’s not you; it’s me. honest. every now and then i go through the shoe pile and toss the ones i only ran in a few times. i never really dated, but i guess this must be what it’s like to look back on an old girlfriend. they seem like nice enough shoes, but something didn’t work. some rub, some lean, some clunkiness. something that caused me to discard them after a couple of tries.
every now and then i will pull an old pair out, on a rainy day or when my legs need a change, and invariably the problem will return. a bloody achilles, a blistered big toe, a hot spot on the pad of my right foot. too snug, too loose, too blue, too something. and they go back to the little island of misfit toys, never to get another chance.
and then it’s time. i tie the laces together, throw them in a bag, and take them to goodwill. someone will look at the new balance $130 leadvilles and asics trail fujis, virtually unworn, and decide whether they’re really worth 10 bucks, or should they go with the bobblehead hula dancer. (advice from longtime runner: ALWAYS go with the bobblehead hula dancer.)
the shoes look up at me, hoping for a second chance. they did their best; i know that. but if they don’t work, they don’t work. you can’t force love.
so they go into the bag, memories of what could have been the perfect relationship. i sigh, tie the bag, and set it carefully by the door.
it’s sad to see them go. i wish things had worked out. i hope they’ll be ok. it’s not you, it’s me. honest.
this is likely why i never dated …