Sweet 16 running shoes not included in decluttering phase

Out with the old.  

No need to bring in the new in 2025. I’ve got too much stuff that needs to go first. 

My room is cluttered with books, DVDs, pictures, games, newspapers, magazines, mugs, my Michael Jordan and Pete Rose collections and a whole lot of childhood memorabilia. 

I have vowed to part with much of it. I continue to read about the importance of decluttering, how it clears your mind, reduces stress and anxiety, helps you think better and even improves your outlook.

That said, I’m not sure I’m strong enough or even willing to toss things out with the trash or give much away, especially Pete Rose and Michael Jordan. Most likely, I’ll stash it all into footlockers and find a place for it in the garage, where six footlockers filled with pieces of the past are already piled high. I’m not sure transferring keepsakes from the house to the garage is what they have in mind when they talk about decluttering, but it’s a start. 

There is one area where I struggle the most when it comes to cleaning house, where it hurts to think about it. One area I anguish over each time I try to surrender just a few of them: running shoes. 

The other day, I counted 16 pairs, and that’s not including a large box full of what I consider old, collectible running shoes, if there is such a thing, in my closet. And it doesn’t include the three pairs hanging on display, the Reeboks I wore in the 2006 Boston Marathon, the Skechers I wore in the 2019 Dingle Marathon in Ireland and the gold and black Puma spikes I wore when I ran my fastest high school mile. 

No, the sweet 16 are shoes I still run in. Among them are models from Hoka, Saucony, Asics and Nike. Each has a specific role and purpose. For example, the Saucony Freedoms are for faster running. The Hoka Stinsons are for long runs, the Asics Gel Kayanos are for slower, cushioned runs. The Speedgoats are for trails and the ATRs are for days when roads are icy. 

My wife wouldn't mind seeing some of them go, but after all these years, she understands she's not dealing with rational thought.

In recent weeks, I have twice declared, “Today, I will give up two pairs of running shoes.” Then, I pull them all out, form a pile and sift through each pair, gauging how much life they have left, how many more miles they can give me while still protecting my knees and how cool they still look on my feet. 

I’m attached to them. We have been through the good and the bad. Suffered through rain and slush and mud. Enjoyed the warmth of the sun. Celebrated a blizzard with a run around The Boardwalk.

Those that have carried me through significant milestones, like the Hokas with Zero Gravity Technology I wore for the Wicklow trail run in Ireland, or the Saucony Triumphs I wore for the Honolulu Marathon, will be spared the giveaway pile and given a place deserving of their status and contributions to my running career.

My fixation with running shoes stretches back decades to my first pair, a green and gold Nike model. For the most part, I have loved them all.

When it comes to a favorite, none approach the Nike Terra TC, a black, white and red pair of unequaled artistry and functionality that carried me to my fastest marathon. Some mornings, I find myself yearning for them. I imagine flying along in them just one more time. They were beautiful. How those slipped away into the abyss, I do not know. 

A mistake that will not be repeated. 

So, declutter I will. I could use a clear mind and better focus.  

But when it comes to running shoes, forgive me. Most, not all, are untouchable. They are part of me. Good friends to be counted on. My mind is crystal clear on this point. No amount of decluttering will change it.

“Asking me to get rid of my running shoes is like asking me to stop breathing,” I declared the other day to my wife.  

She smiled, shook her head and walked away. She didn’t disagree. 

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Bill Buley is assistant managing editor of The Press. He can be reached at bbuley@cda press.com.