I got the walking blues.  After six years, my favorite pair of hiking boots took their last steps.  These boots have carried me across the street, across the country, and across the world.  I have hiked with them in New Jersey, Vermont, New York, New Hampshire, Maine, North Carolina, Utah, Nevada, California, Germany, France, Jamaica, Puerto Rico, Australia and Tasmania.  They supported me when I worked for four summers as a janitor, giving me my footing as I hauled heavy desks and office furniture up and down flights of stairs.  They took me up and over mountains when I worked in the beautiful Green Mountains of Vermont.  Last summer we hiked ten 4,000 footers in the White Mountains of New Hampshire.  Together we hiked the Long Trail, and they stayed strong even when my knees could not.  These boots were made for walking.

Sadly, my boots met their match in the lava rock desert of the Eagle Lake Field Office.  Stumbling over loose rocks and sage brush, the soul of my boots was ripped apart.  I did the best I could, buying a tube of Gorilla Glue and trying desperately to keep them in one piece.  But when your soul is broken, there is no going back.  The soul of my boot ripped apart once again the next day.  I looked down at my dusty boots and decided that this was really the end.

Today, my new boots arrived in the mail.  They feel stiff and clunky on my feet, but I know that in time we will get along.  I hope that they carry me just as far as my old boots did.  As for my trusty old pair, I have a plan.  There is a tree on the side of Highway 395 near Reno that is home to hundreds of old pairs of shoes.  Different colors, styles, sizes, all strung up in the tree by their laces.  Next time I pass that tree, I will hoist my boots up into it.  There they can finally rest and reflect on where they’ve been.

Whatever you do, take care of your shoes.