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These are my sneakers, beautiful I know. I don't really know where they come from, my father brought them back from his trip to Chicago. They stayed under my bed for months not really doing anything. Unless you consider collecting dust something, at which point, they were feverishly doing something. Around that time  I weighed at a hefty 300 pounds and growing increasingly desperate to lose my weight, not only for the aesthetics and the confidence but also for a much more serious reason-my health. If Rockefellers get money and Windsors get oil, I get diabetes and high blood pressure as my inheritance. My doctors had warned me that if I continued on the path I was on, I was bound to receive bad news sooner or later. Having finally have worked up the courage to work on myself in May of 2020 I decided to take up running. Problem was I didn't have any shoes, sadly my beat-up white vans were not appropriate " athletic gear".   I took up running in late May and honestly haven't looked back since. Ever since I have lost roughly 60 pounds and counting mainly by running. I ran and ran and ........ you guessed it ran. Over time my once regular-looking sneakers looked as if they had been through the shredder. Looking back at it now over a year later, I really don't want to buy new sneakers for my workouts until I have hit my goal of 200 pounds. These sneakers are the symbol of my struggle and journey and I find myself unable to throw them out. A stranger who doesn't know me who sees me wearing them while working out will probably have a lot of assumptions and ideas , my sneakers are a blank page in the sense that someone seeing them will write their own opinions such as " He can't afford better sneakers ? " or " Why are they so beat up ? ". However, to me, these sneakers are a memento of when I finally decided to make a decisive change in my life, and for that reason, I think I'm gonna stick with these beat-up kicks.