My ten-year-old got new baseball cleats. We went to the sporting goods store, tried on three pairs, picked the color, found the size. When we were done I asked if he wanted to wear them out.

He looked at me like I was crazy. Metal cleats on tile floors. Fair point.

But when I was a kid that question meant everything. You'd go to an actual shoe store — the kind with the slanted benches and the salesperson who measured your foot with that metal thing — and when you found the right pair they'd box up your old ones and ask if you wanted to leave wearing the new ones. I always said yes. New shoes meant something was about to happen. The day felt different the moment you walked out the door in them.

I still try to buy shoes at a running store. More often I buy online out of convenience. Either way, I never wear them out. I keep them in the box until it's time to run.

But running still gives me that feeling. That sense that something is about to happen. That the next run matters. That there's still something out there worth chasing. Most things stop feeling that way as you get older. Running hasn't. Not yet.

Next running shoes I buy — I'm putting them on immediately. Being ten for five minutes.

Happy running!