I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
Category: Uncategorised
When you purchase a new pair of sneakers you are not only buying the brand, the look, or the comfort. When you buy a new pair of sneakers you are making a commitment to your self.
You are buying hope.
As spring slowly presents itself, it’s only natural that you want to become more active. You want to get outside; you want to shed that winter weight. You want to improve. Is there anything more motivating than a brand new pair of running shoes?
Inspiration right out of the box.
You buy new sneakers at a time of renewal, at a time when you’ve worn down, or worn through, an existing pair. They too were bought on the premise, or promise, of greater fitness. You bought them because you intended to run, or walk, or cross-train, your way to both feeling and looking better.
As with every new pair of running shoes, you use them exactly for what they were intended for. For a time. Yes, we all have our own pace, but exercise is the mandate. For a week or three, or like five days out of seven, you do exactly that. You continually log a few miles, or a few thousand steps, or however you measure your progress.
You may even lace them up on those days when you’re going out shopping or wandering around the city. It’s pretty easy to log four to seven thousand steps while you are out and about.
Comfort is always appreciated. As it is when you’ve got to quickly run out to the bank, or back to the office to catch up on paperwork. Then, after a while, you find yourself wearing the shoes just to saunter down to Starbucks. It becomes a habit.
Soon enough the shoes are not really running shoes, but a pair of convenient casual kicks. You don’t even bother untying the laces, you keep them a little looser and slip them on or off.
Comfort and convenience, what else could you ask for?
During the whole process you’ve maybe become a little less dedicated to that planned fitness goal. You’re still making use of the shoes, but not in the way they were designed, or the way you intended.
In time they become just another pair of sloppy, smelly, dirty old shoes.
When you realize the comfort and novelty has worn off, you decide, again, that it’s time for a new pair and a new plan.
It’s not an easy choice; there are a lot of sneakers on the market in terms of style, and purpose, and function. You might do a little research and read up on the latest models. Certainly any retail salesperson worth their salt is going to ask you your ‘why’ and ‘where’, and (of course) you might exaggerate your fitness level or fitness plans. Considering the cost, you take in the features advantages and benefits of each pair you try on. And you try on many.
You want just the right fit, the right amount of padding, traction, and even the right colour.
Damn, they all feel so good. But for how long?
The pair you select should be able to perform exactly as intended, but will you?
© 2019 j.g. lewis
Posted on May 1, 2019 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
How do you know when it’s time to let go? When do you know an item’s life cycle is through, and it is time for something new?
It’s too easy to give up. Inhabitants of a disposable society, we all too often go out and buy something new when we tire of it, or when it falls out of fashion.
It’s wasteful.
I’ve got a denim jacket that has served me well. I can’t even remember when I bought it, but it has faded properly in all the right places. This jacket is beyond comfortable; perfect on cool summer nights, and with a collar you can pull up to shield yourself from the miserable winds in April or October.
The jacket is worn in a few spots, and a tear from a scuffle a few years back has grown from being fashionably frayed to functionally inconvenient. Except for the holes, and a few borderline threadbare spots on the seams, it’s perfect. Really.
It has seen better days.
I thought about replacing the jacket, but it represents comfort to me. It seems to get better with age; each wash fades the indigo blue a little more. Like a pair of jeans, it takes a while until they feel broken in.
It would be easy to replace, but don’t we do that enough with most everything else? You run a car for a few years, then swap it out for a newer model. It is more convenient to buy a new pair of boots than to find a cobbler and have the heels, or the sole, repaired.
We love the new and let go of the old all-too-easy.
I seriously considered another garment, but decided a new jean jacket isn’t really going to be any different than the old one. Let’s face it, the style hasn’t changed much in decades. I began wearing the wardrobe staple (then a hand-me-down from my brother) in Grade 4. In photographs, it looks much the same as the one I wore in Grade 8; or Grade 12; or later.
I’ve had more than few jean jackets in my lifetime, and this one has stuck with me for a while. I haven’t left it anywhere along my travels (so far). And did I mention it really does keep on getting more comfortable with age?
So rather than tossing it away, I decided to repair it. This has kind of been a theme of mine over the past couple of years: repair rather than replace. I’ve done it with a few long-time items. I guess I’m proving to myself that repairing, or repurposing, an everyday piece of clothing is going to add value instead of costing me.
I took the jacket, along with an pair of jeans of similar vintage, to a tailor and had a patch sewn onto the left elbow. It looks great: you can hardly tell it has been repaired. It works.
I can’t say it saved me much money (though it was worth every dollar), but it saved yet another piece of clothing from the landfill. It’s not that I‘m environmentally conscious (though I believe I am) or consciously thrifty, I’m just being practical.
