Dear Running Shoes:

I wanted to let you know how much you have meant to me these last 6 months. I knew it wouldn't last forever but I didn't see this coming at all. We had some good times you and I. We have seen some amazing heights, okay, it was Communication Hill (CH) but it was still a nice view. And, we had our low points; 28 degree mornings, a pack of dogs stare down and that weird '80's runner (headband, leg warmers, too short shorts). You got me through some bad spots; street paving tar, puddles and black ice to name a few. You have been there for me every morning. Every single morning rain or shine. You haven't complained when I have abused you (that wasn't a pile of brown leaves like I said) and have stood proudly beneath me when I treated you worst (I know sprinting isn't my strength but you gave it your all). So, when you died on me yesterday I was suprised to say the least. I think it must have been that last run on the Santa Cruz beach on Thursday that did it. You were doing just fine but I could tell you were tired (okay, it was me but you felt heavier). Friday it felt like we were slogging up CH but you made it and I thought you were going to pull out of it just fine. But, alas, it wasn't to be. You gave it your best I'm sure yesterday but that last down hill on CH your heart just gave out. Okay, it wasn't your heart it was your toe. I slid forward and my toe slid through the mesh. It was startling to watch it happen. I had to stop and try to save you but you were gone. You wanted to hobble on but I just couldn't watch. Every step was painful for you so I had to do it. I had to let you go. Don't think I won't remember you, I will. Every morning as I set off I'll shed a tear for you. For all those miles we saw together.