Tell us about your favorite pair of shoes, and where they’ve taken you.
All the Shoes I Have Owned.
I am 34 years old. That means I have measured my life in miles, memory, and the passing years. Calendars do not count my time well spent. Soles worn thin, check marks on trails completed, and the seasonal changes that force the trail to call for better footwear all matter equally to the passing time.
Jobs, Situationships, and Cities.
Where I am keeping track of my shoes, trails, and memories.
Each carried a version of me across state lines, hallways, and streams of self-doubt. Every scuff and crease was proof that I never stoped going, receipts of perseverance.
Chuck Taylors Crossing State Lines
At 23 my original white and black mid-top Chuck Taylors were not just sneakers. They were a declaration to my alternative lifestyle.
Those Chucks carried me from West Virginia to Las Vegas. Those stretches of highway were more than asphalt. They were a threshold. Leaving one world, stepping into another, via Greyhound bus.
They learned the rhythm of casinos, inner-city streets, and paths illuminated only by the moon on walks where I failed to outpace my own thoughts. They taught me that sometimes movement is survival.
Blue & Yellow Nikes: Vegas to Ohio
The Nikes I found at Platoe’s Closet still, brand new, with the tags. I always felt sharp wearing them, but too good to be true. Untouchable. Yellow and blue, my favorite colors on brand new thrifted shoes. Too bad my friend’s dog just decided he had to go and chew them all up.
They walked with me in the neon heat of Las Vegas and turned around to walk me back through the frozen Ohio roads. There is something poetic in that. A reminder that growth, shoes, and grounding go foot in foot.
Some Trips are Detours, Mirrors, & Memories .
Before the Converse and the Nikes of adulthood came the shoes that saw me through school.
Pink and Black Etnies:
My middle school armor. I thought I was Joe too Cool. These pink and black skate shoes carried me through the unknowns of middle school. The season when everything feels louder and more dramatic than it should.
Shoes can signify a number of things. Shoes are currency. Identity. Protection.
Those Etnies were armor in hallways full of judgment and growth spurts. They survived lockers slamming, gym floors squeaking, and the first slurs I ever heard aimed at me. They covered the awkward stretch between childhood and whatever comes next.
High School in Soles
Freshman year belonged to all black Jordans.
Sophomore year to white and red Adidas.
Junior year to camo Rocky Bearclaw high top boots.
Senior year to flip-flops, slippers, and slide on shoes.
Each pair marked a shift.
Jordans were fresh, new, fly. They were indicative of moving to a new school.
Adidas were steadiness. High tops for when I played on the court, red and white, the colors I liked.
Rocky Bearclaws were grit, grim, and all the other bullshit.
Flip-flops, slippers, and slide ons were freedom, that home school gifted to me.
By senior year, I was done trying to prove myself to people who never asked any questions. I just wanted air between the soles of my shoes and space for expectations.
The Many Shoes After
Adulthood does not stick to one brand.
Crocs for comfort.
Boots for manual work, hiking, and other practical tasks. Including a champion pair that belonged to my late mom.
Tennis shoes for the gym, casual hangs, survival, and in between.
Sandals, slides, chunclas for breathing, relaxing, and warmer air.
Bare feet for grounding, connection, and feeling Earth.
Each pair has a reason, a season or two.
When you get to my age, shoes stop being status and start being strategy.
Walking the Earth, A Day in My Shoes
No matter where I go, I come back home. No matter the shoes I decide to put on today, they always know the ways.
The miles on your feet teach you something you cannot learn without meeting defeat.
These miles taught me something simple. You can trek in the desert to far off hot springs. Walk all day to wander with waterfalls. Conquer fire towers left from society’s distant history. Cling to cliffs edged with care. Soak in searching, solo small sessions.
But…
Eventually, you shall return to the soil that shaped you, hearing the calls from the dirt that made you. Home.
Respect Shoes & Feet Through History
I walk the earth and listen to those who were here before.
Prehistoric People.
Ancient Ancestors.
Eternal Elders.
The quiet wisdom they share hidden in dirt roads and forest paths.
Whatever you chose to wear, go deeper into your listening.
Bare feet soaked with dew.
Traveling expands on the amount of what you know.
But, to return to home is understanding.
The Lesson: Shoe’s Teach-
Shoes are important for way more than just current fashion trends. These items can be of cultural significance, show social status, designed to help some disabilities, protect from elements, improve a job or task, improve navigating some terrains, or even provide comfort.
They remember where we have been, what we survived, and sometimes who we were trying to become. They carry our weight without a single complaint. While they also wear down so we do not have to.
I know my favorite pair usually has little to do with a style alone. It is about what they witness, provide, or help us survive.
No matter how far a pair of shoes takes me, every road curves back toward home eventually.
SHOES! 👞 👟 👠
My favorite pair of shoes is not just one single pair. It is the thread between them. I know I’m the king of never giving a direct answer deal with it.
From Chuck Taylors to my mom’s hiking boots, from middle school hallways to state highways, from city lights in Vegas to frozen streets in Ohio, each step carved something unique into me.
I am still stretching and walking. Forever searching and seeking. Eternally listening and responding, naturally.
The ground always remembers.
But
As do I.
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