Imitating the annoying spring wind, I blew out the cobwebs from my recreational shoe budget account, ventured down into town, and purchased another pair of walking shoes. A few, or I should say more than a few words, danced in and out of my imagination as I farewelled my old shoes and acknowledged that with them I never walked alone.
Requiem to my Asics
Noble steed of synthetic mesh and crumbling foam,
Weeks short of a year and too many kilometres ago, you were bright-eyed, bouncy, and full of cushioning optimism.
Now? You resemble an exhausted spaniel that’s been through a tumble dryer.
You bore me well—across uneven footpaths with gabbling holes, gravel, mud, mystery solids, and litter from shedding trees and homeless dwellers.
You gripped when I slipped.
You flexed when I faltered.
You squelched when it rained and screamed quietly when it didn’t.
Together, we faced a few hills of despair, the well-known paths that scenery only changed with new walkers and faster cyclists.
You, my Asics, were there through it all. A loyal sponge for my aching knee and shins.
Do you remember that morning?
You held strong when I accidentally stepped in a puddle that may or may not have contained half of Tauranga’s remaining water table.
And what of the day my right sock folded like an origami swan mid-stride? You didn’t judge.
You just kept plodding forward, like the champ you are (or were).
But oh, how time has changed you.
Where once was tread, now lies a smooth patch of regret.
Where once your arch support stood proud, now it hangs like me after Pilates.
Your laces are frayed. Your soul, sorry, sole, is now battered.
Not quite smelling too foul, though there seems to be an air of a will to live.
And yet. I cannot quite bring myself to throw you away.
Not after all we’ve been through.
Not after the numerous hills, the building of tears, the songs we quietly sang together, drowning out traffic and overly loud humans, the cherry tree incident, and that unholy cyclist, who has obviously never heard of the merits of a ringing bell.
You carried me when my knees wailed, my hips screamed, and my toes felt like greased lightning.
You may never walk again, dear Asics.
But know this: you didn’t just carry this older woman.
You carried a dream, a late-life crisis, and many, many changes of socks.
Rest now, oh rubbery warrior.
May the wind from the North Wester dry your insoles, and may your next life be as a sensible house slipper in a warm, dry home with zero incline.
Goodbye, my faithful foot-shaped friend.
It is definitely the season for it! I have also just binned my old New Balance for a sparkling clean new pair. The dusty roads will soon take the shine off them. 🙂 Happy walking to you. Melx
LikeLiked by 1 person
Happy walking to you too, Mel x
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks. I am going to need it!😊
LikeLike
Thanks! I am going to need it!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Sure, you are🤣 You always say that and always accomplish what you set out to do.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I give it a red hot go!🙃
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m still smiling in sympathy. I’m notoriously heavy on shoes. Yours sound like heroes xx
LikeLiked by 1 person
Jo, I’m pleased it made you smile and yes I can relate to being very heavy on shoes. Some people have shoes for years that still look brand new, not me x
LikeLiked by 1 person
I have no doubt that those shoes appreciate your warm feelings about them!
LikeLiked by 1 person
They certainly do as the happy thoughts rule out those muddy murky moments.
LikeLike
Loved this one Suzanne and I can SO relate. I have a pair of well worn and much loved asics that I’ve since replaced but can’t quite bring myself to throw out.
This was such a great ode. Was smiling throughout. 🥰
LikeLiked by 1 person
Miriam, I’m so pleased it made you smile, as that’s what I hoped would happen 🙂 It is quite weird how we can become quite attached to our walking shoes. Perhaps it is the places they take us to.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very poetic. I tend to hold onto shoes (and everything else) longer than I should – “just one more wear” seems to go on for a long time.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Cheers, and mostly the reason is that my knee or hip start playing up as the trend is uneven.
LikeLike
I absolutely love this tribute to your Asics, Suzanne! It is not easy to find the right pair of walkers and sad when they’ve been used up. A couple of my favorite pairs of boots are mouldering in the garden. One set got me through my first field season, when I hiked through the Mojave desert looking for desert tortoises. The other pair served me many years while doing stewardship monitoring for a land trust. My current shoes are a bit disappointing, I’m afraid.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Those boots of yours certainly deserve a place in your garden with a new life stuck in them, as I visualise a daisy or such growing in them and not left alone. 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
A fine tribute. I hope the replacements serve as well
LikeLiked by 1 person
Absolutely loved your ode to a shoe. Never quite thought of it like that before. Over here in Oz, the Rebel footwear store has a recycle bin for well-loved shoes such as your beloved Asics. A brand that I have recently discovered also serves me well.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, and what a wonderful idea for Rebel Sports to have a recycling bin. I will have to check whether they do that here and rid myself of a few.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Also, H&M have a drop off bin. They claim they pass on what they can if it is still usable for resale, repurpose if possible and then recycle the rest to return to base textiles. So now I only donate to Op Shops clothes that are in extremely good condition. If anything is extra special, I take it to Dress For Success. The rest to H&M. Being a fast fashion outlet, H&M is part of the problem. I choose to trust this is a genuine attempt to close that loop. But I see your local store closed earlier this year.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love this ode to a pair of shoes! When I find a pair that serves me well I tend to buy the same kind over and over.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Anabel and yes I have my favourites when I did half marathons and basically still stick to the same types of shoes when walking. I spend more money on walking shoes than dressy ones, I wonder why? 😉
LikeLike
I’m not sure I possess dressy shoes any more. If I needed them I’d have to buy some!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Isn’t that how it is meant to be? Walking shoes are for you, dressy shoes are for others to see.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well this is the first time I have read an ode to trainers! Unfortunately I had to give the Hoka shoes back to my daughter after they injured my big toe. I might have to go back to the hiking boots that I haven’t actually worn in years 🤔 but never caused me a problem.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Jude and I think it’s best to keep using the same brand if it works for you. Well, until the company decides to change things.
LikeLike
Fantastic Suzanne! I want to hear about the cherry tree incident though 😁
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Jim. Did you mean that incident where the sky became a wall of bark and falling blossoms when I accidentally banged into it after I tripped? 😁
LikeLiked by 1 person
That sounds like the one 😂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love this, Suzanne, it definitely put a smile on my face 😄
LikeLiked by 1 person
Cathy, thank you, as your comment put a smile on my face 😁
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh, I love this.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m pleased you enjoyed reading it, Sue.
LikeLiked by 1 person