As I was scrolling through potential scholarships I could apply for during winter break, I stumbled across a few writing scholarships. As I scrolled past, I realized, that I really am a writer. By working on this site, I am writing, I am a writer, just like I am a runner, a student, a sister, and a fry person at In-N-Out.
I went back to the scholarship and read the prompt: write about the day in the life of an inanimate object.
I thought about some objects that I use everyday, and immediately chose my running shoes. My pink, Saucany running shoes, bought on sale at BIG5, of course.
I am very hard on my runing shoes, I blame them for the bad runs and the sore legs, but they take me where I need to go every day. Here is my tribute to them:
The sun hasn’t yet risen, but my day is already underway. Tucked in the corner of the room, I sit quietly, waiting for Sarah to lace me up. As her trusted running shoes, I’ve seen more miles than most. Each scuff, crease, and frayed thread tells a story—a testament to the paths we’ve conquered together.
The moment comes: Sarah reaches for me, pulling my laces tight. A rush of purpose fills me; it’s time to do what I was made for. We step outside, and the crisp morning air kisses my mesh tongue. The first few strides are gentle, a warm-up to loosen stiff muscles, both hers and mine. Then, with a steady rhythm, we pick up the pace.
Today, we’re running through the UC Davis campus—a place I’ve come to know well. The pavement greets my rubber sole with a familiar cadence—thud, thud, thud. We dodge clusters of students and weave through paths shaded by oak trees. The roundabouts are my greatest challenge, though. Dodging bikes whizzing by in every direction is a high-stakes game, but I’ve learned to navigate them with precision. Sarah’s quick sidesteps and our synchronized rhythm keep us safe, even as the cyclists speed past us with hardly a glance.
The trail comes next, my favorite part of the journey. Gravel crunches beneath me, dirt clings to my outsole, and the occasional stray pebble embeds itself in my tread. These imperfections are badges of honor, evidence of adventures that extend far beyond the paved streets. Sarah's breathing steadies, her determination strengthens, and I can feel the pride that pulses through her every step.
But not every moment is smooth. An uneven patch of ground tests my balance, and a misstep sends a jolt through us both. I hold firm, absorbing the shock to protect her knees and carry her forward. Together, we adapt, recover, and keep moving.
After miles of shared effort, the run ends. I’m soaked with sweat and speckled with mud, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Back at home, Sarah slips me off with a sigh of gratitude. I sit by the door, airing out and ready for whatever tomorrow brings.
Though I may be just a pair of running shoes, my purpose is far greater than my simple design. I am a vessel for resilience, a partner in progress, and a reminder that every step, no matter how small, is a step forward. Through me, Sarah chases her goals, her confidence, and her freedom. And for that, I am proud.
Thank you lefty and righty!!!
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