The Patience of Old Shoes

I hang onto some pairs long after they resemble shoes. After my first marathon, I kept my lucky Adidas for three years. I strapped them with Duct tape in an effort to get one more run. I must have thought that the shoes held a magical quality that allowed me to run the full 26.2 miles in the hills of southern Ohio.

Maybe it was fond memories of fulfilling my promise to my students that I would run in the spring marathon. My students doubted me, I doubted me, but I publicly promised them and that sunk me to keep my word.

Little did I realize I would be training during the winter. Honestly, I enjoyed jogging along the snow filled paths hearing my muffled footfalls. The creek gurgling the only other sound in the night. I decided to run after a full day of teaching classes and rehearsals.

My shoes patiently waited for me by the front door. It was a friendly reminder that running time approached. I usually argued and tell them, II was too tired, it was a long day, I'd run later, or tomorrow. But my shoes waited silently. I'd cave to the pressure and put them on. Once I got them on my feet we both knew integrity had won.

I started at my front door and ran to the campus. I turned left past the football field and then under the bridge to the path along the creek. Finally I'd and circle back through the center of town and return. I usually ran from 8:30 PM to 10:00 PM. I loved it, the cool crisp winter air, the snow, or rain or fog. Nothing mattered once I got started.

That's the best lesson I learned from those shoes. Set reminders to keep my word because it matters. I finished the run in three hours and twenty minutes. Okay not fast, but I ran the entire thing. Sixteen of my students were at the finish line cheering me on.