In one of my favorite books, Douglas lives through a childhood summer in his small town in Illinois early in the 20th century. It’s a nostalgic book about the good and pure things of summer, including Douglas’ desire for a new pair of tennis shoes. He’s just managed to earn the money to buy them from Mr. Sanderson, a merchant; they’re on his feet and the magic starts.
“Stop!” cried the old man.
Douglas pulled up and turned.
Mr. Sanderson leaned forward.
“How do they feel?” The boy looked down at his feet deep in the rivers, in the fields of wheat, in the wind that already was rushing him out of the town. He looked up at the old man, his eyes burning, his mouth moving, but no sound came out.
“Antelopes?” said the old man, looking from the boy’s face to his shoes. “Gazelles?”
The boy thought about it, hesitated, and nodded a quick nod. Almost immediately he vanished. He just spun about with a whisper and went off. The door stood empty. The sound of the tennis shoes faded in the jungle heat.
Mr. Sanderson stood in the sun-blazed door, listening. From a long time ago, when he dreamed as a boy, he remembered the sound. Beautiful creatures leaping under the sky, gone through brush, under trees, away, and only the soft echo of their running left behind.
“Antelopes,” said Mr. Sanderson. “Gazelles.”
He bent to pick up the boy’s abandoned winter shoes, heavy with forgotten rains and long-melted snows. Moving out of the blazing sun, walking softly, lightly, slowly, he headed back toward civilization.
Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine
Last Friday, I did something I haven’t done in well over a decade: I bought myself a decent pair of walking shoes, made for the purpose, and not off the Walmart shelves. I remember buying the only decent pair I ever owned back in roughly 2007, when I was walking miles a day and felt as if it was time to do it. Needless to say, those shoes wore out a long time ago, especially when I regained weight and my gait changed.
That’s one of the odd things about losing a lot of weight; not only did my feet change size, but the way I wore out my shoes changed, since I basically lumbered when I walked. As time went on, arthritic knees amplified that. Although I had lost most of my weight before having total knee replacement, I quickly discovered that my previous gait changed; not only were my knees straight and pointing the right direction (I was slightly pigeon-toed on one side), but with physical therapy, my walk changed.
While I don’t have video of me walking as a morbidly obese woman, and then before and after knee replacement, I needed to look no further than the soles of my shoes. In fact, after surgery, any shoes with any wear at all got donated because it was difficult to walk in them.
After surgeries and as I started building up the miles, again, walking for longer distances each day, I knew I’d eventually have to ditch my Walmart cheapo shoes in favor of something that would withstand my walks and treat my feet better; having a decently made pair of shoes that fit right makes a huge difference, and last Monday morning, as I started my morning walk, I thought “well, they feel good now, but what about in another three miles or so?” So I set out in my neighborhood, and quickly realized that the fit was good enough to do my full morning 5K distance.
I admit it was a purchase I should have made long ago, but I put it off. The shoes I bought were definitely more of an investment, and it occurs to me that even though I’ve been working hard on my health, there’s part of me that really didn’t think I deserved spiffy new walking shoes. Who am I to want to strap on a pair of magical shoes and dream of being a beautiful creature, leaping under the sky, only the soft echo of my steps behind? Antelopes? Gazelles?
The shoes are a commitment to continue the hard work, and maybe that’s why I hesitated. I’ve ditched such things after making the commitment before. But it’s up to me to strap them on each morning and take the first steps of the day, and while I don’t think I’ve felt like a gazelle in a new pair of tennies since childhood, they do feel good on my feet and make me want to take a few steps more each day, which might be the entire point.