It’s pretty easy sometimes to get caught up in dumb shit.

I’m not proud of it, but the other day I spent all day stressing and desperately googling to find a solution to someone changing a running shoe.

I’m sure if you follow me on Instagram or over here on this little blog you would have seen and heard the ramblings of a mad person.

The following day when fresher cooler heads had prevailed, I had replaced the blind panic with profound guilt and almost donated money, that I really don’t have spare, to the Food Bank to one make me feel better and two make me feel less like a self centred, privileged arse hole.

Nobody checked me on my craziness. Maybe it’s just normal these days for folks to rant and rave on the internet about something that, in the scheme of things, doesn’t really matter.

I mean serious friend, check your privilege.

Poor white woman, living in middle class, suburban Melbourne, is upset about the rubber on her $200 pair of running shoes, being not quite as comfortable as it was last time she bought them. I want to smack that person.

Yeah yeah I know my feelings are valid, blah blah blah, and whatever else the inspirational instagram post would like me to believe, but that doesn’t mean a little reality check wouldn’t hurt.

Let’s practise a little gratitude for a second, I know it sounds woo woo, but entertain me for a second.

• I have a body that if I ask it to, will do whatever I ask of it. A body that works and isn’t limited.
  
• I have the means to buy running shoes, for all different occasions (If I’m being honest, probably too many occasions), all the mandatory gear, running packs and watches and nutrition products. Running ultramarathons is not remotely a cheap activity
  
• I have the time to spend training for long distance events without having to worry about income or care giving
  
• I have the relative safety of being able to run from my door out onto the street without the fear of persecution, or assault
  
• I live close enough to be able to drive only 10-15 minutes to get into the bush and trails
  
• I have the time and means to travel to races all over the world
  
• I have a country stamp on the front of my passport that doesn’t limit my movement as a person or a woman.

I think I could continue on and on forever but you get my point. Does the rubber on my running shoes actually matter?

I’m going to go for a run now, because the sun is out, my legs work and my dogs would be stoked about it, and I’m going to smile and remember just how lucky I am as I do it.

I’m going to smile and remember just how lucky I am as I do it.