“Every good blog should have a best–of–year post.”
“No they shouldn’t. Besides, this isn’t one.”
So here’s my best of two thousand and eighteen.
I got the blue Salomon shoes for Christmas in 2017. Don’t think I’ve communicated it properly to the good people who gave them to me how much they’ve meant to me. Need to do that. It’s no overstatement to say that hadn’t it been for the Salomons I probably would have either stopped runnnig or ruined something. As in inured. Most likely both.
I can’t help but smile about it, a little, but I never meant to run. Now it’s what keeps me in shape. And not just physically, far from it. I digress..
Although the trails are just ground—mud and rocks and dirt and gravel and whatnot—under my feet, I attribute all sorts of magical qualities to them.
By the way. If I were to guess I’d say that about 95% of the kilometers counted with the running app in 2018 happened in my backyard. That might be an underestimate.
Don’t know if I should say too much about the views of twenty eighteen. Many of them came with a deep breath, the kind of breath that reaches way into the core as if they were trying to reach for something and then hold on to it but often ended up ruining it, whatever it was, by trying too hard to come up with cheesy punchlines. Suppose that’s about presence, the lack of it. Still, good effort, Views, please keep on doing what you do.
Taking over where the Salomons left off, these are possibly the best things I’ve put on my feet (I always say that, about every new pair of shoes). In spite of the fact that they’re ever so slightly wide on my skinny feet. And there is Kevlar in them, a troublesome fact that I need to deal with.
The Salsa Fargo
For transporting #runningman to a few fine trails ..
What happens when hasty internet purchases. It wasn’t their fault that my feet are of the opposite shape, meaning extra skinny whereas the shoes are on the wider side of the scale. Tried them for a few runs, wanted to love them, so much, but them and me just wasn’t supposed to happen. But the grip, oh the grip!
Twenty eighteen and I didn’t get along particularly well. I’d be lying if I said I was sad to see it fade into oblivion. I’m sure the feeling would be mutual, if years had such.
To the next one..