I have worn Mizuno Waveriders for all of my running years. Recently, I decided I want to add some variety to my shoes and try something else. My feet have been feeling tired out, and since I’ve upped my mileage I’m thinking something a bit more cushy would be nice. One of the YouTubers I watch recently made a video about his shoe collection and that was it! I was committed to plunking down the cash for some Hoka Cliftons. 

I headed out to our local running shop, which recently partnered up with Fleet Feet. With Mizuno sizing getting weird over the years, my size 7 feet are in an 8.5 wide. The guy at Fleet Feet measured me and suggested I go with 7 or 7.5, neither of which were in stock. I ordered a pair of 7.5 wide and waited a few days for them to arrive. 

Putting my feet in for the first time, the Hokas felt very different from my Mizunos. The 7.5 are a tad big, which is fine with me, and I laced up the extra holes to help with slipping. Away I went, cautious at first but soon digging the soft cushion of the Clifton. My third run with them was a long run, and it went really well. I definitely had less discomfort as the miles wore on, and I was sold. I am now rotating them with my trusty Waveriders and I think this is a good thing for my feet and legs generally! A pair of size 7 may feel even better – I’ll see if I can get my hands on a pair for comparison.

Another notable thing happened during my long run, this one not so pleasant. I’ve been struggling with some difficult issues lately, some heavy emotional baggage from many years ago that pops up sometimes. These feelings and memories came knocking during my run. At first I did what I usually do when something challenging arises, and ran through it. I tried telling myself it was OK, I could deal with this stuff later. I was a strong runner, I could put it aside for now.

For brief periods, like a few minutes at a time, this worked. Kind of. Eventually, though, I couldn’t hold it off any longer. I had to stop and cry. I had to run and cry. I had to slow down, walk, speed up, cry. Cry in sadness. Yell in frustration. Seeth in anger. Forgive with grace. Sadness over the things I had gone through that still haunt me. Frustration that they still, all these years later, bring me to my knees. Anger at myself for letting this interfere with my run, followed by self forgiveness and recognition that it isn’t my fault. This last part – forgiving myself for my self-perceived weakness – didn’t always happen. Over the years I have built this practice with intention. It may not ever come naturally, but it is easier to find now than it used to be. 

After struggling pretty hard I came to a place of letting my body take care of my soul. My body, that knows how to run, that knows how to carry me through grief and fear and pain. The same body that experienced the hurt all those years ago, that took the brunt of the abuse while my mind fragmented itself off and disappeared.  I gave my body control and let it do what it knows how to do, I let it tend to my devastating feelings without ignoring them, belittling them, or pushing them aside. My body carried my soul through the pain. 

I finished my run and gave my body what it needed to recover. Gratitude towards my body joined the jumble of emotions flooding through me. Was it the best run I’ve ever had? Not even close. But it was very meaningful, and allowed some healing to begin yet again.