FlipFlop

I heard the "flop flop" coming up the sidewalk behind me.  The sound was a familiar one, that of somebody walking in flip-flops.  But the tempo didn't register until she flew past me.  This was somebody running in flip-flops.  The girl that shot by appeared to be in very good shape.  She ran easily, not at all hampered by her footwear.  She was also talking on a cell phone, another testament to her conditioning.  Maybe she was running late or maybe she just liked running in flip-flops.  I don't know.  I must confess I was annoyed with how effortlessly she moved down the street.

There is nothing effortless about the way I run.  With each step, I feel age and gravity conspiring against me, pulling me back.  A focused attack is required to overcome these foes.  I don't have the spare energy to hold a cell phone, let alone talk on it.  I need footwear that helps not hinders me.  I run in running shoes, not tennis shoes, not cross trainers.  They must be laced and tied a certain way and to a certain tension.  If my shoes are a little too tight or loose, my whole run will be ruined.  Socks, too, must meet exacting requirements.  Not too thick or too thin or too long.  The slightest thing could be the straw that breaks the camel's back and leaves me gasping and trudging home in disgust.  I run with an iPod (mostly to drown out the sound of my own wheezing).  Once, the right side ear bud stopped working.  Within a couple of minutes, I fell apart.  In summary, I am a high maintenance runner.

So, a part of me envies the girl running in flip-flops.  It would be wonderful to run with such ease, to be carefree about it.  Even if I could, I would never run in flip-flops, however.  Just the thought of something crammed between my toes makes me feel a little nauseous.