I’m so sorry, but this relationship has to come to an end.
We were together for nine months. Together through snow, rain, in sun, down in the dry heat of Arizona and through the city of Hartford, past the civic center – and you didn’t laugh at me when I started singing Brass Bonanza. Almost everyone else does.
Our first 5K? We made it!
Our first five miler? That was bliss. Frigid, drizzly bliss. We’d finally outdistanced ourselves and broke a barrier. This was the beginning of a long future.
But looking back, going that distance was the pinnacle of our relationship. Because it started to hurt. Literally hurt. My right heel was in constant pain for about two weeks and we had to be separated because of it. I looked at you longingly in that time, knowing we would be back together soon.
When that time came, I tried to put something more into this – a hard heel insert in my right shoe – to make these miles a little less painful.
Then, when we went to Phoenix together, something else happened. Two little holes on the outer edge of the fabric that’s kept it whole. Still, we went out two more times on the roads, and made it work for just a couple more weeks.
Finally, someone else consoled me, but was frank with me.
This, Dina at the running shop told me, bending you in half so that the top of the heel met the top of the toe, isn’t going to work any longer. You need something more stable, something that you can invest in.
I needed about an hour to make up my mind.
So I’m letting you go. I’m giving you up and finding a newer, brighter, firmer future in something like you.
I’m putting you in the shoe donation box at Dave’s Running, because I know that way you’ll find a good home in a new life.
It’s been fun. It’s been real. It’s time for me to move on to something new. Thanks so much for the memories, and for helping me realize that I can be a better person. And that I can run five miles.