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. TC mark

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