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I run. I wear shoes when I run. I wear trail shoes when I run on gravel. I wear road shoes when I run on pavement. I have a lot of running shoes. That isn’t considered an addiction, is it?
My husband, Brandon, stumbled over some of my shoes in our closet one evening. He looked at me seriously and asked, “Do you have names for each of your pairs of shoes?” Of course most of my shoes don’t have names. That doesn’t qualify for an addiciton, does it?
My eight-year-old, Kenny, knows what brand running shoes I wear. My 11-year-old, Max, called me a shoe freak. My daughters, Kendrah and Maddie, question why the UPS man is dropping off “another” Adidas box. That doesn’t sound like an addiction, does it?
I smile every time I lace up my running shoes. I’m thrilled at the idea of running a race with one of my children. I’m overjoyed that my body continues to power through training (with only a few minor setbacks). I’m honored to be running Grandma’s half-marathon as a pork producer. Now, you tell me, there’s no way that’s considered an addiction… is it?