I'm one who does not actually consider herself self "athletic" ~ I "run" but I am not a "runner." I don't usually have the cute matchy matchy tight fitting workout clothes or the fancy expensive shoes. But over the years I have tried to make sure I get myself in a new pair of running shoes every season. A few years ago would I run my cheap shoes until the bottoms fell off, literally... and ultimately my feet were the ones that paid the greatest price. Several years ago I embraced the turning point of realizing the value and importance of an expensive running shoe.
As I think about those shoes in the box, I can't help but wonder what adventures we will have together. How many miles will we run and walk together in this summer? Will these finally be the shoes that I run a half marathon in? What vacation, sights, memories, will these shoes carry me to and through? It's actually quite exciting really, and yet I know it will be a bit before I actually get them out of the box and on my feet. I'm the same way every year.
Breaking in new running shoes is sometimes a bit of a task. I've come to love my current shoes. We've created a bond, an attachment over the last two plus years. (I didn't get any new shoes last year because I basically didn't exercise the majority of last year...) And while change is good, change isn't always easy. They'll hurt my feet for the first several outings. My heels will bleed, my toes will ache, my bunions will probably flare up. They will make me question why I should even put in the effort of attempting to run or exercise. They will initially whisper sweet nothings in my ear trying to convince me to just leave them in the box, in the closet, unused, unworn. They will tell me it's perfectly fine to not exercise anymore. But as I start wearing them more and more, they will in time form to my feet, loosening and stretching to just where they need to be, to allow me the comfort and support I need as I lace them up and head on out. In time, they will change those tiny whisperings of failure to words of encouragement, egging me to slip them on, lace them up, and take them out for a good pavement pounding.
It is my prayer they will fit well and our transition and relationship with each other will grow quickly. Soon the old shoes will become just that, the "old" shoes. The shoes I'll grab that might get dirty, that might get wet, that might be a little more abused than carefully loved.
Why is it that we often have a hard time of letting go of our tried and true, our trusted and rusted go-to favorites? Why is it so easy to just hold on to the old and continue to put off, push off, the new? I know it's human nature, everyone struggles with change. No matter how openly you embrace the overall concept of it, no matter how it's colored or covered, change is hard. We often think it will be much easier to just leave life in the box, close the lid, and keep on wearing the old shoes. It will surely be easier, safer, and hurt less.
But that new and shiny option of small scale change, is usually exactly what we need to keep us going forward, to keep us on track, and to keep us fresh and up-to-date. It helps keep us current, keeps us better maintained, and keeps our minds and bodies open and fresh. We must continually embrace the opportunities and steps of change on the smaller scale, so we will also continually practice and embrace the larger scale steps of change in our lives as they arrive.
Change isn't always easy. Change isn't always wanted, but change is often needed. It's the tricky catalyst that helps continue us forward in life, helps continue our openness, our mental toughness, and our growth.
So perhaps today needs to be the day I finally open the boxes, saw hello to those new beauties - those future new best friends of mine, lace them up, and put in our first small workout together.
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