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| photo: mine |
Other than their fun stripes, they might seem pretty innocuous to most people. After all, they're just socks. Given their source, there are probably thousands upon thousands of pairs just like them.
But not to me.
Since 2011, I had been completing at least two 5K races per year. One of those races was in March of 2014.
I had convinced my mother and two friends to do the race with me. A fun 5K where they threw powered paint at you? A gorgeous path through downtown Nashville and lots of photo ops with these three amazing women? ABSOLUTELY!
As the day broke, it was bitterly cold and raining. We stopped for coffee on our way to the starting line and the debate about if we really wanted to do it raged. After much deliberation, we decided it wouldn't be that bad, it'll be fun, the race will be done before we know it!
Yeah, right. We got there early, meaning we had to stand out in the driving rain, near freezing temperature, and blustery wind as the race start approached.
Thankfully, there was a booth set up for the purchasing of extra items. As my legs were really the coldest part of me, I was seeking something to layer to get some of the feeling back in them. I saw the socks, and I desired them at once!
I unrolled them and tried to pull them on. The top of my socks are woven with the race name, making the top of the sock tighter than normal. I wore them through the race, nearly cringing because of how tight they were. By the time the race was over, I had deep grooves in my calves from the top of the socks.
After the race, the socks were washed and put away. They were seriously uncomfortable. Beyond that, they made me sad. My mom had bought them for me at the race, and it was hard for me to feel like I wasn't putting her gift to good use.
A few days ago, I noticed that the socks were on my bedside table. I don't remember putting them there. I'm not sure if the little one pulled them out from some hidden hidey hole in my room...but they looked like a challenge. I decided to take the challenge.
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| photo: mine |
My brain hasn't yet caught up with my physical changes. Like my trip to Universal, I'm still waiting for someone to tell me I don't fit, I can't do it, I'm still too large.
The only one telling me that? Me.
But only sometimes. Little by little, my brain is catching up with my body. It's not longer the thing that holds me back. It's not longer the thing that keeps me from playing, running, cuddling...
Living.
They might be a pair of socks to anyone else, but they're a badge for me. They're a symbol of success. They're a badge of honor.
They're my stripes. And I earned Every. Single. One.
