My running shoes look pretty good sitting over there in the middle of the floor. My wife doesn’t think they look good there, but I do. They’re white with some blue and silver accents…and that familiar swish.
I like everything about them…the nylon mesh, the thick round laces that hang off the sides all nonchalant and laid-back. I even love the way the toe turns up…in my mind’s eye I can see my foot rolling along the sole and off the toe with every stride. You can tell just by looking at them that they were made for running. They look like the “want” to run.
They have reminders of their purpose written on them in case I forget. The word “RUNNING” is printed on them in three different places. On the internet, putting words in all caps is the same as yelling. As I write this I can hear my sneakers yelling, “RUNNING!” at me from across the room. The word “RUN” is even printed on the neon orange in-sole as a final reminder when I put them on, “hey, buddy, once you lace us up we’re taking off whether you want to or not.” Everything about them says, “GO!”
I’ve been away from blogging for the last two weeks because we’ve been at a music camp in the northwest New Jersey. Yes, believe it or not you can have a camp in New Jersey. This one is in a little ‘burg called Bloomingdale. It’s in the foothills of the Appalachians…nestled quietly in the part where Jersey, New York and Pennsylvania meet.