Similarly Different & Differently Similar

Much of my weekend was spent on a search for a new pair of trail running shoes. I've worn the same brand, style and size of running shoes for the last 5 years, but my new entry into the trail running scene has necessitated the need for different footwear. I have a pair of Salomon Gore-Tex trail shoes, but with summer coming I need something more breathable.

After trying on many pairs yesterday, researching shoes online, buying a pair of shoes that were way too pink (and too small), I set out again today to continue the search. At one point I stopped into DSW, which has a surprisingly good selection of sneakers. I found several pairs of sneakers and sat down to try them on. Several minutes later a man who worked there came up beside me and asked if I was a runner. I barely glanced up while saying yes.

"Oh yeah, did you run Broad Street?" he added.

Still concentrating on my shoes and paying the man little mind, I said "No, I did another race that day, but I've done it many times."

He obviously didn't mind that I wasn't paying attention. Continuing the conversation that he wanted to have, he said "yeah, well that was my first time. It was great."

Now I was intrigued. I stopped looking at my feet and turned my attention and my body to him. He was, to say the least, an atypical runner. Tall and heavyset with a chipped snaggle-tooth and large, wire-rimmed glasses sitting crooked on his face.

"Whenever I see someone trying on sneakers, I like to come over and see if I can help them." He quickly added, "I did the Philly Marathon 8K too. That was great."

I realized that he was no "ordinary" runner. I could sense that running was new hobby and that he was extremely proud to laud his accomplishments. I wanted to know more and I wanted to continue to let him talk and beam with pride. I asked what he was doing next.

"Oh I don't know," he said, "I run with a group called Back on My Feet so..."

As he mentioned Back on My Feet, I nodded excitedly causing him to stop mid-sentence.

"You know about Back on My Feet?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's a great organization. Good for you." I responded. Back on My Feet is an organization started in Philadelphia to help the homeless get "back on their feet" and gain self-confidence, strength, pride and motivation through running. I frequently see people in BOMF shirts out running. I've read about the organization and seriously considered volunteering.

Acknowledging that I knew about the organization, my new friend and I looked at each other with a mutual sense of understanding. He needn't say more. I knew about his past, just without the details.

We continued talking for several more minutes, talking about brands of shoes, future race plans and nagging injuries.

At one point, he added, "at the shelter, we run at 5:30 in the morning. It's a great way to get the day started."

I was humbled. And stunned. And in awe. Here was this man, who likely at times in his life was at the lowest of low- homeless, jobless, likely suffering from addiction, without friends or family and definitely without a hobby like running. Now he had a roof over his head at night, a job when many don't, accomplishments in running, a reason to wake up in the morning and undeniable pride encircling him. In an instant, he put my whole life into perspective. I felt like the luckiest person in the entire world for what I have and for having met him.

We ended our conversation as he went to go help another costumer and I went to pay for my sneakers. As I walked away, I realized I hadn't asked his name. I wanted to know his name, but I also wanted to commend him. On my way out, I stopped the manager-looking person standing near the front door, "excuse me, what is that man's name?" I asked as I pointed towards him, already happily helping another customer.

"Charles," she replied, with question and trepidation in her voice.

"Thank you. He was really nice and I just didn't get his name."

Relieved, her face lit up with a huge smile as she said "oh wow, thanks, that's so nice."

As I walked out and reflected on my encounter, I teared up, moved and inspired. I've said that the reason I run is because I can. So, obviously, does Charles. There are undoubtedly few similarities between Charles's life and mine. But we're both runners.

Tomorrow morning, we will both wake up at 5:30 to run and greet another day.

I guess we're more similar than I thought.