Buying running shoes can often feel like entering into a romantic relationship. And just as a romantic relationship can lead to love, you can fall head over running-shoe-heels for your footwear. But what happens when the running shoe magic (and outsole) starts to fade?
The setup
You spot a leaked photo of the shoe online and, despite the photo’s grainy quality, you know you absolutely must have this shoe as the lovable lead to your running shoe rotation. It’s unquestionably an upgrade over your ex-shoe—the current edition of the model, that now looks ugly in comparison—so dreadful, in fact, you begin to wonder why you ever consented to be seen in public with that shoe.
You begin to daydream about what the new pair of kicks will look and feel like when you kick your runs into overdrive. Just as the grass is always greener, the new running shoe is always sweeter. If you’re being honest, you absolutely want what you can’t have—we all do—and it’s impossible to wear an unreleased pair of shoes.
The meet cute
The shoe is finally “on the market” (it’s about time!) and you can’t check them out—in your online cart—fast enough. You send messages to the company inquiring about the exact delivery day, alas, there’s no response. Are they ghosting you after buying running shoes?! You check your phone incessantly, as you wait for them to send you notifications about the arrival of your package.
Days later, you hear the UPS truck pull up to your home: it’s time for your date with destiny. After you watch intently (and impatiently) from your front window as “Cupid” delivers your present, you rush to rip open the box. You take a minute or two to admire the shoes’ beauty. If you’re honest, their photos look more attractive online than in person, but nothing can steal your sunshine today.
Puppy love
You lace up the new running shoes and hit the open road for what you hope is just the beginning of an everlasting union of two souls soles. You picked a hilly route, knowing full well that every relationship has its bumps along the way. Despite running up hill after hill, you can’t help but look down repeatedly to ogle at the object of your desire. It almost doesn’t matter how they feel—they look amazing! Your eyes should be focused “up here” on the road, but you can’t stop looking down at the pair.
Over the next few weeks, you invite the pair to follow you everywhere on every kind of run. Call it infatuation, obsession, or delusion, but you’re in love with an inanimate object. You never thought you could feel this way about something made of nylon, polyester, polyurethane, rubber—and, perhaps, silicone? Nah, they’re real and they’re spectacular!
The complication
As time passes and the miles add up, invariably your passion starts to wane. The spark you felt is long gone and there is no hope of rekindling it. You understand the shoe so well that there are no more surprises. You know how the shoe feels and it’s the same old sensation. What once felt like a fun mystery to unravel has become a Rubik’s cube with just one color. You start using the shoes less often and for shorter distances. The shoes aren’t stupid; they know you’re avoiding them and you’re being short with them. But deep down, you know it’s not you, it’s them.
Your wandering eye spots another pair of daily trainers from your favorite brand that promises to be a big update. We’re talking a complete overhaul of the midsole and shoe geometry, not just a worthless modification to the upper. You purchase the shoe with high hopes they will light a fire inside you again. And they do—for a while, anyway.
But as weeks pass, you can’t escape the nagging thought in the back of your mind: the shoes have changed. They don’t look as attractive as they did when you first met. They don’t make you feel as they did 100 miles ago. Your runs clearly aren’t as lively. The thrill is gone. But again, it’s not you, it’s most definitely them.
Happily ever after?
Soon after, a new pair of carbon plated racers distracts you. You see them in perfectly curated photoshoots on your Instagram feed, on the feet of runners in your run group, and on podiums of World Marathon Majors. You justify buying running shoes by claiming it’s their fault—they shouldn’t be showing off their “goods” for everyone to gaze at. Your sleazy friend, who looks a lot like Paul Walker (RIP), bets you can’t turn the pair of shoes into the belle of the balls—of your feet. You accept the challenge.
But before long, and after many long runs, the same feeling starts to creep into your head. You ultimately lose interest and the bet, but again, it’s certainly not you, it must be them. Fortunately, your quirky gay best friend George is somehow conveniently at your side to provide comic relief and talk some sense into your flawed self.
After a rather short conversation in which he shares the most obvious “insights,” you miraculously have an epiphany. You realize it’s not the running shoes, it’s you! Call it the thrill of the chase, but you were unwilling to settle down and commit to one pair. In your head appears a montage of scenes showing you running in just one pair of shoes for the rest of your life—but it’s horrible. It’s a recipe for running boredom.
An epiphany is only as good as the action it stimulates. Regrettably, you simply can’t stop buying running shoes despite owning more than a dozen pairs. As a grand romantic gesture, you purchase yet another pair. Sure, you’ll never be fulfilled, but by splurging on pair after pair, you’ll never run out of dopamine. Just be careful not to run out of money. Remember, not every romantic comedy has a happy ending.
