My hiking boots (both members of the pair) suffer split laces.
They lace up through eyelets. It takes a toll on the strings to pull the tops taut.
They have a lot of character.
This is why I resist swapping them out.
An old friend even nabbed me a pair of replacement laces.
The boot (right one) lace finally snapped such that the lace was too short to even serve its function.
This occurred before I set out today. As I tied my shoes.
I thought: I could replace the lace.
I then thought: meh, just make do and get on with the walking.
That is what I did.
The makeshift knot did not stay tied. I stop and retie one way.
The then makeshift knot did not stay tied.
So, I just got on with walking with an untied shoe.
I hit the trail head.
A tree snapped overnight.
It lays splayed with a bayonet.
I realize that if I walk with my right foot to the very edge of the right side of the trail, the lace will flop through the soft grass instead of dancing and bobbing in bounces upon the paved trail.
My attention is hooked and I relish the realization.
Despite its silly, triviality.
And, I do not feel silly or bad for the momentary smile that spreads over my face.
But, then I realize, the walking has not occurred.
You can see the bench upon which I stop as I head back,
to consider the lace.
I rip the wearied threads until only the still enstrengthened portion remains.
It changes the pressure supporting my right foot.
I enjoy the feeling and shift on the way home.
Suppose it is time to replace the laces.
But who knows?