We had a difficult introduction and tense first few weeks. I didn't really like them that much. They didn't know me that well. I missed my old buddies who'd seen me through good times and bad times. But finally today we've clicked. My new trainers and I are now firmly best of friends.
I didn't think I'd get quite as attached to my old ones but they'd seen me through my first year of doing 'proper' regular running including the exhilarating experience of the Great North Run. It was actually that run that finished them off though I clung onto them for another couple of months, making excuses for them and realising how ridiculously fond I'd become of a pair of now tatty, battered old running shoes. It was when they started to smell even worse than they looked that I finally had to admit it was time to say goodbye. Even then it took a few weeks for them to make the final exit from cupboard to bin.
I'd already bought this new pair and started wearing them in December when most of my running was in the gym on the treadmill. They’ve stayed shiny and clean and, well, not really me. This week, finally over the festivities, I've pulled them on, braced myself and been out running outside again. And, through the mud, the puddles, and those difficult first few runs we've finally bonded. Maybe it's because they are now a bit more worn in, feel more familiar, and are looking more like they belong to me. I'm glad we're friends at last, we've got some tough times ahead - including this year's Great North Run!