Shoes; Disposable Items or BFF's?

Unlike pets, shoes are not for life; running shoes more so. They are really a commodity, a consumable, disposable items. But that's extravagant, isn't it? Let's be honest, it's difficult not to have some kind of emotional attachment with a shoe. I'm not good at choosing shoes or clothes. Ideally, a personal shopper would be great. But when I have them, I'm not good at giving them up. Binning a running shoe because it has 500 miles or so under their soles seems inherently wrong. 

However, the messages coming from my feet, ankles, calves...and that troublesome shin splinty area suggest otherwise. So mine get moved on. Not to other people, but to other roles. Perhaps for the gym, car washing, gardening, stepping outside between the door and the shed...all useful viable functions for footwear that still has plenty of life left in them. Having spent more time on the roads recently, I'm acutely aware that I'm treading a rapidly thinning path with my current footwear. I do need new road shoes. 

James - 5 weeks to London, Mr Thrift himself, now almost has a standing order for running shoes, and cannot be more descriptive of his black and white comparison of a new pair and those with 500 miles under them. So the question is how to choose? In recent times, I've not been doing too well with injuries and so have been reluctant to simply replace like for like, instead searching for that magic golden ticket...hoping the next pair will be 'the' ones. We all hope for that...don't we?

My local running shop 'Running Bear' is great at letting you try out shoes. On the road outside, treadmill, camera's, thoughtful looks and so on. It always surprises me that numerous pairs of similar looking shoes can feel so different, both in the shop and then on the road. How do I choose? Well, that has proved very easy this time around. Jane, from Running Bear seemingly has been scoping me out at RunClub training. Perhaps not overtly, but certainly on the occasion that she was behind me the other week, and mentioned my running style in relation to footwear. 

She explained she was trying a shoe that might suit me and next time I come in the shop I could try a pair. Now, you may think she saw me coming, but actually some weeks much later I did pop in, almost forgetting about her recommendations. Jane wasn't in, but a shoe box with my name on them was. Right size and everything. Even now I can't tell you what they are, and I'm not sure I care. I tried them...and the golden slipper fits! Fuss free shopping, I'm a happy man. But I also carry a burden of guilt. 

I couldn't believe I was bringing home yet another pair of shoes, so sheepishy hid the box. Then I got a message from home...my running shoes were being tidied up, the kind of sickening feeling you got when you realised your mum was in your bedroom and the sound of what we would now call 'de-cluttering'. Then this photograph. Busted. I can't throw them out...they're like good life long friends. Old friends for sure, but we've done so much together, many stories to share. Consumables, they are not. 45 miles last week.