Tag Archives: Sneakers

Just Do It

Ever since Lance Armstrong fell from grace, I’ve had to default back to my old life motto, Just Do It. It felt great, just, right, like finding an old sweatshirt in the back of your closet that you haven’t put on in years, like you must have put it back there almost immediately after buying it, because you’re thinking back, how often did I really get to wear this sweatshirt, two, three times? And so it’s practically new still, and you’re looking at it, worried, is it still in style? Will I look like a man from the past? And you’re standing there contemplating all of the various ways in which the world is going to judge you, and this voice pops up in the back of your head, it says, “Just do it.”


And you do it. You put on that sweatshirt. That’s what I did. Not with a sweatshirt, that was all just like an example. No, I’d never lose track of a sweatshirt like that. Maybe a pair of sneakers. Sometimes I’ll go to a shoe store just to see if they even have any shoes in my size. And it’s always stupid, because they never do, it’s always twelve, thirteen, tops, and so I’ll get discouraged, I’ll find myself way in the back of the store, that huge wall where it’s just “Everything Must Go!” the shoes are all organized by size, and there’s a little section just devoted to fourteen.

But it’s like, everything must go for a reason. Why? Because all of these shoes suck. But they’re there. There’s always like four or five pairs of shoes in my size. And I start thinking, wow, this is a great deal, what a find. And I’ll try them on but I’m not really loving them. Like I don’t hate them, but I don’t love them, and I’ll debate over and over, do I want them? Should I buy them? And then, conveniently, coincidentally, maybe, but it’s just what I need to hear, or see, I look at the box, the shoes are Nike, or, maybe not these shoes, but I’m in a shoe store, I see the Nike logo everywhere, and in my head it’s like, “Rob. Just do it.”

So I buy them, I make an effort to wear them once, but I’m definitely self-conscious. These aren’t exactly regular shoes. If they were regular, someone would have bought them off the regular aisle, not the please-get-these-shoes-out-of-our-store aisle. I make an excuse to go home early, change out of my shoes, and I don’t even want to look at them anymore, they’re a reminder of everything that’s wrong with me, my flawed sense of style, my inability to be happy with what should be as simple as picking out a pair of shoes.

Back in the closet you go, shoes. And then years later, I’m doing like a massive cleaning, I find them, I think, man, these are practically brand new, and that same feeling creeps in, I’m like, maybe I can make these work. And again, think about the savings. Think about that sensation of having a practically brand new pair of shoes just materializing in my closet. And I’m saying it out loud this time, I’m like, “Just do it!” and my wife is like, “Rob? Did you say something?” and I have to try to avoid giving a direct answer, because I don’t want to sound like a crazy person.

Still, they don’t fit, they weren’t in style years ago, and while the arc of the fashion universe might be long, it hasn’t yet bent toward this particular pair of shoes. The money lost years ago is hardly worth justifying now, and so I don’t feel any guilt at throwing them away, whatever, lesson learned. I pause at the trash can, shouldn’t I try to hold onto these, maybe find a shoe charity that I can donate them to? But I start imagining all of that work, I’ll never do it, I’ll put it off, these things are going to find their way right back into the closet. I’m outside already, I’m looking at the trash can, just do it man, just throw them away.

Done. It was almost kind of easier with Live Strong. I wasn’t so impulsive. That was just a generic expression of fortitude, like, do I really feel like going to work today? I don’t know. Live strong. Whatever, I’ll take the day off, that’ll be good for living strong, because I need to be relaxed to live strong. I can’t be stressed out to live strong. Living strong is so much more adaptable to any situation.

But just do it? I think I need a new life motto. I’m accumulating so much junk. Stupid t-shirts with lame slogans. This pair of pants that almost fits right but not really. I’ve got to stop just doing it, because my house isn’t big enough for all of this garbage. What other kinds of philosophies are out there? What kind of inspirational sayings might apply to how I want to live my life? Have it your way? I’m lovin’ it? That could work. Maybe I’ll gain like a new positive outlook on all of my bad purchases. Like that ugly jacket. I’m lovin’ it? Yeah, maybe I could be lovin’ it.

I’m telling you, everything happens for a reason

Everything happens for a reason. Like that time I stepped in dog shit. I was really pissed off, grossed out. I didn’t feel like cleaning it off. So I said goodbye to those shoes. I said, “So long shoes!” and I threw them in the trash, somebody else’s trashcan, obviously. Garbage pickup isn’t until Tuesday, and I didn’t want to worry about accidentally forgetting that those shoes were in there, and then I’d go to take out some garbage or something and I would open up the lid and just be overwhelmed with, well, I don’t have to get in to actually describing how terrible that would have been. What if I was right about to enjoy a nice snack? And right before I’m about to chow down, I’m like, hmm. Maybe I should take out the garbage? And I do that, and that scenario that I just described winds up unfolding. And I’m just so disgusted now. My appetite’s gone. I go sit down to my snack, but I’m just really not into it anymore. I’m not into snacking right then. I’m not into anything. I have this scowl like etched onto my face. And so my snack just goes to waste. Obviously I can’t just leave the snack out to go bad, but I don’t want to make another trip out to the garbage can, so I don’t do anything, which is actually the same thing as leaving the snack out to go bad. And it gets really bad. But, like I said, trash day isn’t until Tuesday. So then maybe the next day one of my friends comes over. And maybe I’m in the shower when this friend comes over. And I hear the doorbell ring, so I just jump out of the shower real quick, still soapy and everything, but I can’t just leave him outside to wait for me to finish up. So I run downstairs all soapy but covered with a towel, I unlock the door and give a really quick “Hey!” but I start running upstairs right away, because I’m dripping and making a huge soapy puddle everywhere I go. I say, “I’ll be out in a second! Make yourself at home!” which is always a nice thing to say. I hate when you go over somebody’s house and it’s clear that they don’t want you to make yourself at home. They might as well be saying, “Don’t make yourself at home. Respect the rules of a good houseguest.” Like you have to take your shoes off before stepping foot inside. I always hate this rule, because what if somebody spills a little drop of soda on the floor? Or one potato chip? And then when you step on it, now you’ve got a wet spot on the bottom of your sock. Or a crushed up potato chip. And even though you do your best to clean it up, there are still potato chip crumbs stuck in there somewhere. If you were just wearing shoes, it wouldn’t be such a big deal. Or, there’s the other end of the spectrum, where whoever’s house your at has a great carpet, like super plush, shag carpeting. And not only do you want to take your shoes off, but you want to take your socks off. You want to get as undressed as you can without making the situation awkward and you want to just roll around in the soft carpeting, feeling totally comfortable, very, very plush, like I said. But your host gives you a face as you start to untie your shoe, and you get the hint, so you retie it, make it like you weren’t going to take off your shoes, you were just making the knot a little tighter. Whatever, the host saw right through it. But you know that the host is doing exactly what you wish you could be doing when he’s by himself. Just moving all of the furniture out of the room so it’s just the carpet, that beautiful, plush, luxurious shag carpeting, and he’s just rolling around in it, back and forth, every part of his body touching every inch of carpeting, back and forth. And he gets up and his whole body is charged with positive particles, and he can feel them. He’s feeling like turbocharged, not just from the comfort, but from all of those ions and that static electricity. And he drags his feet over across the carpeting right to the doorknob, and he touches it. And it’s this huge spark, like, ”ZZZZAP!” like it’s such a big shock he can smell it, he can smell the charged air, and it’s just everything you would possibly imagine that to be like. But I’m a good host. When I say, “Make yourself at home brah,” I’m serious. And my guest knows I’m serious, that I’m not just saying it to be pleasant. I’m like do whatever you want here. And he goes to the fridge and grabs a drink and he takes a look at my old snack which is still just sitting there, it’s been sitting there for days, a nice cheese plate maybe, and he starts chowing down. But it’s cheese, so you really can’t tell if it’s bad or not. You’re like, “Hmm … this cheese sure tastes extra fancy.” And then he gets really sick, like really sick. And he’s going to throw up, but he doesn’t want to throw up in the house, so he runs outside and opens up the lid to the trashcan, with those dirty sneakers still just sitting there, and he’s overcome with the stench, and it’s too much, and he dies. And it’s all my fault. That’s why when I step in something, I just throw out my shoes in someone else’s trashcan. Or a public trashcan. But usually someone else’s, because those public trashcans fill up so fast, and there’re just piles of litter not in the trashcan, but sitting right next to it. I got a new pair of sneakers. They’re blue. I keep getting compliments on how awesome they are. I’m eating a snack right now. It’s fucking delicious. I told you, everything happens for a reason.