The Power of the Shoe

When I started out on my running journey, I had no appreciation for the important role of running shoes. In fact, I ran a fair distance in my already old and worn out gym trainers, before I realised that perhaps I needed to buy proper ones. I was surprised to learn that this was not the same process as buying my next set of flip-flops. Apparently I needed to visit a specialised store to be fitted for the correct pair. I was puzzled, it seemed an inordinate amount of hassle over what was, after all, ‘just a shoe’. I would learn the hard way that there were very good reasons for all the fuss.

Even though I didn’t see why it was necessary, I did my homework, found the nearest store and presented myself for my feet to be assessed. I felt awkward and out of place as I stood in the shop, I had no idea where to start. Fortunately the salesperson promptly came to my rescue and hauled out various options for me to try. He made me jog up and down outside the store and eventually concluded that I was a neutral runner. I remember not quite understanding what that meant, but it sounded innocuous enough, so I just nodded as if I understood it all and proceeded to pay for what he recommended.

I ran many happy kilometres in those neon green shoes, and was very sad when they needed to be replaced. My next pair was not quite as successful – initially, they were comfortable but ultimately too wide for my feet, and resulted in a record number of five blue toenails (all at the same time!). Never having had the most beautiful feet in the world, I was dismayed to be losing so many toenails.

A process of trial and error

I didn’t realise it at the time, but my blue toenails marked the start of a long and herculean search to find shoes that didn’t hurt me. In my quest I methodically tried out almost every available brand on the market. The process took over a year, and was a painful one, both literally and figuratively. At one point I despaired that I would ever find something that was comfortable, didn’t give me injuries and would cope with my training program – surely it wasn’t supposed to be so difficult? When I had almost given up hope, the Shoe Gods took pity on me, and I finally found my shoe match. I remained brand loyal after those trying times, I saw no reason to change what worked.

I’ve lost count of how many pairs of running shoes I’ve gone through since then, but one thing that never changes is I am always loath to say goodbye to the old ones. My running shoes usually need to be replaced after 800 to 1 000km’s, which means that I go through this process at least every four months. I should be accustomed to retiring worn-out gear. Sadly this is not the case, it never gets easier and I never felt happy about it. Oddly, I never gave much thought to why I was so emotionally attached to my running shoes.

Global pandemics impact everything!

As a result of a global pandemic, South Africa went into lockdown in March 2020.  I bought a new pair of shoes just before the start of lockdown, my old ones were due for retirement  anyway and it seemed the prudent thing to do. In my naiveté I assumed that by the time I needed another pair, the world would be normal again. By mid-July 2020 the global pandemic showed no sign of abating, and I needed new shoes.   

For the most part, I thought I adapted pretty well to the impacts and required changes brought about by the global pandemic. That was until I realised that the dodgy virus would force me to change my brand of shoe.

The good news was that the regulations had been relaxed to allow most of the shops to trade.  I donned a mask, sanitized my hands and popped in to visit my friends at the local store. The bad news was that my preferred brand was out of stock (nationwide).

‘When do you think you’ll have stock?’ I asked. ‘Probably end of July’, was the response. I did the calcs in my head, another two weeks before the end of July, which would amount to at least another 100kms of running. I’d be pushing my luck, but my current pair might make it. At the end of July I was dismayed to learn that there was still nothing in the country. By then my old shoes had collapsed and were hurting me badly. I needed to do something about the situation. Either I would have to stop running until the stock landed in the country or I’d have to change my brand.

This was a no-brainer, not running was not an option. I pushed aside memories of the struggles I had been through previously, cursed the global pandemic and bravely changed brands. I don’t like change at the best of times, and cognisant of what I went through to find a shoe that worked for me, I was decidedly grumpy about the whole state of affairs.

There was nothing I could do about it, I just had to hope for the best. I crossed my fingers and set off on a 15km training run the next day. Admittedly it was probably not the smartest idea to run far-ish in brand new kicks, but my attitude was ‘go big, or go home’. I’d soon find out if my feet were going to hurt. Afterwards I was pleasantly surprised: no blisters and no pain. Perhaps the Shoe Gods still felt sorry for me after the previous awful experience?

Goodbye old friends

The acquisition of yet another pair of shoes necessitated a spring cleaning session. I just didn’t have space for so many pairs of old friends. I fished them all out of the cupboard and stacked them neatly on the floor. It was then that I started to reflect on the importance of the role that they had played in my life. To the onlooker it may have looked like an insignificant pile of stinky worn trainers, to me it embodied so much more.

For starters the small pile represented a cumulative distance well in excess of 3 000 kms. That’s the equivalent of running all the way from Johannesburg to Cape Town and back again. These shoes hadn’t just travelled many miles with me, they also held special memories in their worn rubber heels, once brightly coloured laces and grubby fabric.

If they could talk they would tell tales of early morning sunrises, cappuccinos, friendships, fun, and laughter. They would regale you with crazy stories of camping excursions around South Africa, have you laughing over adventures in places such as Mauritius or chortling over the lunacy of running during lockdown level 5.

Perhaps the reality is that our running shoes have super powers. Mine in particular have provided me with a platform to forge new friendships, a portal to escape the humdrum of everyday life and a launch pad to achieve goals that I didn’t even know I wanted to attain.

I have learnt that the power of the humble running shoe should not be underestimated, and it is not ‘just a shoe’. Each pair needs accolades for putting up with being pounded on the road, drenched in puddles or dragged through mud. So, when the time comes to retire a pair, it is fitting to pay tribute to the role that it played in my life and my journey. I’m never disposing of worn, smelly trainers I’m bidding farewell to a trusty, reliable old friend.

“You know you're a runner when your running shoes are the most expensive shoes in your closet"

Anonymous