The Glove

I don’t know about you, but I tend to get attached to the strangest things.  Ever since I was a little girl, there are certain objects that somehow become infused with emotion for me and no matter how battered or how worn, I just can’t seem to give them up.  I think I’ve told you about my obsession with my old running shoes.  Something really needs to be done (or so says my husband).  And then there’s the case of my running gloves.

I started running when I lived in a place that got pretty cold in the fall and winter.  Back then, I had no access to a decent running store so I went online to Road Runner Sports and bought these poly blend, white gloves with a little road runner on them.  (You might think this was a mundane act, however, this was 1997 and Internet shopping was still a pretty unique experience).

So twelve years ago I bought these gloves.  I was wearing them the first time I ever ran in the snow.  I wore them to run my very first race – a Christmas 5K in which a little boy beat me.  I was wearing these gloves when I first came to understand the pure beauty and joy of running trails through winter woods…little patches of snow and squirrels on their desperate recovery missions rummaging through leaves. I cried into these gloves that January morning when my husband drove out to find me on my route to tell me that my beloved dog Gypsy had died. I wore them layered underneath heavier gloves when running pre-dawn in 18 degrees with the screech owls terrifying me from their perches in the trees.  I was wearing them the first time I came upon a huge stag in a winter forest.  Amazing memories.

So now I live in the big city and the most terrifying thing I come across is an SUV manned by some guy on his cell phone.  But it was pretty cold this morning when I went out for my run and so I put them on.  I was so surprised…my favorite running gloves, with me for more than 10 years, have holes in them!  I instantly realized that my puppies must have dragged them out of my laundry to play “catch the quail.”  (Many of my running socks have met a similar fate.) That should irritate me, but to me it’s sweet that they love my things so much. The holes remind me of them and how much I love them – despite their destructive behaviors. I had to smile.

I know that things are just things.  They have no consciousness.  You buy them, you use them, and then you’re done. But these little white gloves, with the elastic totally blown, stained with dirt and tears and years are going to be in my top drawer forever.  I figure I can get at least another ten years out of them.  Like a long-term relationship, they just need a little special care…and a needle and some thread.

• Currently 4.0/5 Stars.