I Wore My Worn-Out Boots And This Happened

I bought a pair of boots 5 years ago. They cost me $260. That’s the most a piece of clothing has ever cost me. Ever. They were beautiful. They fit my runner’s calves, and the zippers up the sides were very unique. I could wear them over jeans.

In the time I had them, I had them fixed 4 times. First, some wobbly heels, then the soles untied themselves and eventually started to talk back. After that, the wobbly heel just wouldn’t quit, and finally, a few months ago, the glue separated from the soles and boy did they talk…

This was a huge problem for me. I kept on debating between two choices: do I pay the $40 to fix them, again, knowing that they fit, knowing that one day they will break; or do I make peace with the impending doom, and buy another pair?

I tried to repair the talking soles with industrial strength floor glue. They held for about a day. I thought that it just might be the harsh winter weather keeping us apart. But no. They were finished; determined to break.

But still I continued to wear them, wobbly heel and poor attitude, and all.

Last week I decided to go looking for a new pair. I checked 7 stores. Out of those 7, only 2 pairs could fit me (wide feet/calf – runner). Out of those two, there was only 1 pair that had what I was looking for; calf height, stretchy, flat leather riding boots.

So I bought them.

Then my right hip started to hurt. Then my back. I didn’t understand.

In the end, I realized it wasn’t my new boots it was my old boots. I had developed a walk to compensate for the wobbly heel. These shoes were not broken. They didn’t have a heel. I didn’t need to compensate. I could just walk normally.

I was walking around with a broken shoe. Having fixed it. Having replaced it. I still had the jaunt.

So, you understand the metaphor here of course. Let it go. Fix what you need to fix. Do the work, and then let it go.