Home.

Have you ever walked through someone’s front door and immediately noticed their shoe pile? You can tell a lot about a person by their pile of kicks: what they do for work, how active they are, if they like to dress up, if they live in flip flops. Some people see those shoe piles as clutter but to me they’ve always been a sense of comfort. Real people live here. This is a home.

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When I see this pile of shoes- I know that I am home. In fact, I could tell you whose feet belong in almost every pair for these shoes represent my friends, my workout buddies. When a new pair appears in the pile I am curious, because that means the potential of new shoes to join our circle of sweat, laughs, and hard work.

Sometimes I take for granted this home that I have, I forget that not everyone in the world has something like it. And quite frankly I don’t know how anyone functions without a community like it. Over the past two years coming home to that pile of shoes has become the norm, my way of life. Away for too long and I feel deprived, I feel like I’m missing out. There’s no better feeling than walking into that familiar smell, to those walls that have seen my tears and smiles, my fat disappear, to walking into the ladies in those shoes that keep me going.

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We see people come and go but there’s a core of us who have been around for what feels like forever. When people disappear for a while we pick right back up where we left off. We tease, we heckle, we motivate, we push. Somtimes our abs hurt more from laughing than crunches. And sometimes we look at each other as we wipe sweat from our faces with one universal look: “Is it over yet?”

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These ladies have seen me through some of my best times, and some of my worst. From my very first road race to my first half marathon they’ve been there too. They are the reason I push myself to run that extra half mile, or to do those few extra burpees. Together we’ve waded through mud pits, swam across a lake, and set world records for tricep planks. I couldn’t think of a more bad ass group of women to be a part of. When I see that pile of shoes… I know that I am home. 🙂

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About Kathleen

When your legs get tired run with your heart.

Posted on May 13, 2014, in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. I need a group like that.. You are very lucky and I am jealous 🙂

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