Taking Inventory of My Tennis Shoes

I’ve been taking inventory of my tennis shoes.

It started after my daughter came home from college for her monthly rummage through my closet (the one where she confiscates any last redeemable clothing I might own). After looking through my shoes, she looked at me sternly and said, “Ugh, Mom, all you own are tennis shoes.”

She was right. Whereas my closet once homed pointy toed heels and platform sandals reminiscent of a KISS concert, it now displayed an array of broken-in New Balances, Nikes, and Hokas more reminiscent of a men’s locker room.

“Guess I like tennis shoes,” I shrugged.

But I knew I didn’t come to own so many tennis shoes just because I just “liked” them. Rather, it was because the almighty bunion entered my life. It was a bunion so mighty, in fact, it triggered an achy knee joint, which then triggered a glitchy lower back, which then triggered a weird throbbing sensation around my ear—all of which made it painful to live the life God had called me to as a mom.  It got so painful at one point that I even underwent foot surgery, but unfortunately, the discomfort continued. And just when I was about to turn over my life to circumstance…I discovered the magic of the tennis shoe.

By slipping that nifty rubber under my sole, my aches and pains were barely noticeable. The meager little shoe I had once overlooked now offered me exactly the support I needed. I therefore put vanity (and any desire to ever appear in Vogue) aside and started investing in the athletic footwear industry.

As I sat pondering my shoe evolution, it got me wondering if I had possibly also overlooked other metaphorical “tennis shoes”—other means of support that could help me handle the stress of aging.

Because aging is stressful.

We not only face more physical challenges (increased probability of disease, raging hormones, weak joints), but we also face increased spiritual and emotional challenges. It’s easy see the years (and our bodies) slipping away and question our life’s meaning/ worth, stew over regrets, or even grow cynical about our faith. And honestly, I think the devil plays on that vulnerability to plant destructive thoughts that can be more paralyzing than any achy feet. Doesn’t Ephesians 6:12 tell us as much when it says, “we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of the world, against the spiritual wickedness in high places”?  

So, that’s why I’ve been taking inventory of all the “small tennies” in my life—all the personal behaviors and activities that have a way of lifting my mind and spirit away from the challenges of this world and toward God’s goodness.  

And I have to say, it’s been an insightful experience.

First, I’ve noticed the old tried-and-true supports (such as reading the Bible, praying with my husband and kids, receiving the Eucharist, going to confession) make the biggest impact on my spirit. (The Church knows a little something, right?)

But I’ve also noticed there are also some overlooked “mental tennies” that oddly give my mind the nudge it needs to be in a better headspace to receive those more traditional supports…tennies such as listening to jazz, reading a REAL book (preferably one under 200 pages), watching the comedy of Sebastian Maniscalco, cooking breakfast sausage for my son.

So what now? What will I do with my inventory?

Well, I hope to be as intentional about incorporating them into my daily routine as I am about the shoes in my closet. Because, if I aim to grow old gracefully, I suspect I need whatever support I can get.