I can tell we're going to be friends.

Waking up to soggy shoes thoughtlessly left in the rain gave me few options. I wasn't going to miss my run, that was certain. All diligence and discipline previously employed to get me out on the road in those early stages of training have since morphed into an obsessive addiction. I'm restless without my run and endure achey, fidgety legs when denied it. I even imagine myself emotionally tense and prone to negativity when I'm kept from it. I would buy a new pair of runners. Just like that, it was decided.

Hesitant to drop the big money running shoes usually cost, and remembering my poverty, I proceeded to mentally justify this pricey purchase as I headed to Prorem for shopping: Sure, I don't really have the money. Yes, I am behind on my bills. But there are bigger things going on here that take precedence over financial discipline. (Warning: This is Helen Keller describing the sound of music and the Mona Lisa. I'm a financial disaster. Resist the urge to glean any enlightenment from my fiscal philosophies.) I'm not engaging in a recreational activity merely for "the fun of it" or the physical fitness I win. Training for this marathon feels so much bigger than pursuing that end. It is a work of character and development of the mind as much as it is the body. I don't just conquer miles as I stride; I submit to something hard to endure. I commit to discomfort. I rely on patience to see the fruit of my efforts. In determination, I press forward when there is a lag in progress. The "conquering" makes me emotional because I begin to connect my running life with my life in general. Being able to tie down those attributes in training gives me confidence I can grasp them in the other areas of life. At this point, I'm emotionally and mentally nourished by my running and it has become an integral facet of my identity. I have a relationship with running and we aren't braking up because I'm low on funds.

I made it to 26.2, a fairly new running store in the Provo area, on a mission. I had been needing a new pair of shoes for a long time and this was a great impetus to finally take the plunge and buy some. The purchase of running shoes feels much like the routine Harry Potter goes through to find his wand. You'll try many out, but ultimately the shoes pick you. There exists an unspoken companionship between you and your shoes. Where you run they will carry you. They're motionless and useless without you and you're heavily dependant on them. Together you do great things. The shoes you wear are no small matter. That being said, I know what I need and what I like in a shoe. A Brooks or Mizuno is always a homerun. I'm a neutral, lightweight runner and so I don't need special support or form to keep me from injuries. Although I have a history of weak arches, it's been seven or eight years since they've bothered me, so I don't think I need to consider that at all when I shop now. I reported all these specifications to the sales associate but she still wanted to watch me run and check my form. Sure enough, all I had told her was confirmed. She brought me out a small sampling of shoes: Nikes (yuck,) Sauconys (maybe if I like injuries,) Mizunos, and Asics (aren't those for aerobics?) Blah. The Mizuno Creation almost had me but they didn't have my size. I gave up and went to Runner's Corner. Although I wasn't fond of the girl helping me, she forced me to try a plethora of shoes, even making me go outside and run around in them and then report back. Ten or fifteen shoes in, she opened a box. They were ugly, neon green and loud. And in a Cinderella moment, she slipped the shoe on and I discovered something so right- everything I had ever wanted but didn't realize. It was really light but felt like it had adequate support. When I hit the pavement it was pure synergy. My motion felt like the shoe was a part of me. I knew it had to be mine. The shoe had picked me.

Driving home, I set the shoes on the passenger seat and eyed them as I cruised down State pondering what we would go through together. We connected. The colors and exterior that initially gave me reservations about this shoe were now endearing and I was beginning to identify myself by them. In the next nineteen weeks, we will cover somewhere around 500 miles together. And... I can tell we're going to be friends.

My new shoes.