Diary of a Shoe Whore: Nike Shox

I may have been called a "Shoe Whore" once or twice. There are currently a good twenty pairs of sneakers by my front door, all clamoring to be worn. Some of these shoes may be more loved than others, but they are all loved, and they have all had grand adventures. Each of these shoes has at least one such adventure that I cannot help but recall when I first pull them on. Tonight I bring you the tale of my Nike Shox.


I’ve had my blue and silver Nike Shox for 5 years this Christmas. I know, obviously they haven’t gotten much use, right? I used them exclusively for running when I first got them, and they’ve held up rather well. I remember telling my mother I wanted Nikes and they needed to be blue, so I could wear them in my Air Force fitness uniform. They’ve traveled all over with me, up and down the east coast, all over California.

I think the most memorable adventure I had with my blue Nikes was one June evening in California. I was planning on going to the gym, but it started to rain. It was warm, gentle rain, a refreshing change after my winter and spring in Maryland. It was the first real rain since I had moved to Northern California, and I couldn’t resist.

I put on my reflective belt and drove to the flight line, over five miles from my dorm, and parked in my work lot. I strapped my Ipod Nano into its arm band, and scrolled to my then-current workout playlist. Earphones in place, I stretched quickly and took off in a light jog. There were no cars to worry about on the road, no one to be seen on the entire flight line actually. Just a well-lit two mile stretch of pavement, the rain, and me. The run down the flight line was routine; building from a light jog into a slow, steady run.

Once I reached the end of the road and turned around, however, I decided to have a little fun. I was almost completely wet by this point, so there was no need to avoid the puddles anymore. Instead I started aiming for the puddles, making a game out of how big of a splash I could create. When Pink’s “Feel Good Time” came up on my playlist I didn’t even hesitate. I started dancing as I ran. Just as the song was winding down I happened to notice some light behind me that didn’t belong to an overhead lamp. It was coming from the headlights of a maintenance truck, two guys in maybe their early twenties inside. How long they had been following me, watching me make a fool of myself, I don’t want to know. Both guys waved as they passed, and I continued the last half mile or so of my run with a smirk plastered on my face, thankful that they didn’t work in my building and my silly clandestine run would remain my little secret.