When I think about the milestones in my life, they’re not always marked by birthdays or graduations. Sometimes, they’re defined by the shoes I was wearing when I took a big step forward—literally and figuratively. For me, the moment I truly felt like I was stepping into my own came during a quiet morning run, wearing my first pair of hoka shoes.
I still remember the day I bought them. I was standing in the store, surrounded by walls of sneakers that all looked fast but felt… ordinary. Then I saw them—chunky soles, bold design, and that promise of cushion I’d only ever heard seasoned runners talk about. The decision felt like more than just buying running shoes; it was the first time I invested in something purely for me, not because I needed it for work, school, or someone else’s expectations.
The first run was almost surreal. The usual pounding of my feet against the pavement was replaced by a smooth, rolling motion that felt effortless. My breathing synced with my steps, and for the first time in years, running didn’t feel like a chore—it felt like freedom. I realized I’d been running toward something more than fitness. I was running toward my own independence, my own version of who I wanted to be.
Over the months, those shoes carried me through many “firsts.” My first half marathon, where I pushed past the wall at mile 10 and discovered I was stronger than I thought. My first solo trip to the countryside, where I ran along quiet trails at sunrise, watching mist lift off the grass. Even my first breakup run—the kind where you hit the pavement with a heavy heart and return with a little more clarity.
There’s a quiet kind of ritual in lacing them up each morning. It’s not about speed or distance anymore. It’s about starting my day with a reminder that I can choose how I move through the world. That choice is empowering in ways I didn’t expect. It has made me more confident in saying yes to challenges and more patient when progress feels slow.
It’s funny how a pair of shoes can become a symbol. For some, it might be a watch or a car or a jacket that makes them feel ready to face whatever’s ahead. For me, it’s the slightly worn, road-dusted Hokas by the door. They’re a reminder that growth doesn’t happen all at once—it’s mile by mile, day by day.
Now, whenever I see someone else wearing them, I feel a quiet kinship. Maybe they’re just starting their own journey. Maybe they’re chasing a personal best. Or maybe, like me, they’re finding their stride in more ways than one.
And as for my first pair? I still have them tucked away in the closet, not because they’re in running shape—they’re not—but because they’re a piece of my story. A reminder that sometimes the most important growth happens when you take that first step, in the right pair of shoes.