The Running Shoes

Dan Parker, AKA '@RunDanRun' considered his video caption for a few moments, then decided to go all out with: 

“THESE RUNNING SHOES WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE. HERE’S WHY…”

He then scanned the video timeline until he found the right thumbnail. A shot of himself holding a pristine pair of Megaflow 11, his frozen expression a picture of awe. He pixelated the image of the product, as he didn’t want to give the game away before he earned his click, and added a few neon exclamation marks and a ‘mind blown’ emoji for good measure. 

In the opening seconds of the video Dan claimed that while these shoes were sent to him for free, his opinions were entirely his own. That wasn’t strictly true. He didn’t have any opinions as such. He just said what he needed to say to get more views, likes and subscribers, and keep the free loot coming. 

He did actually think this pair were good, and planned to take them for a spin at the 5K ParkRun this Saturday. But were they a game changer, or just the same as the last ten pairs? Who was he to say? If someone wanted to spend £200 on new shoes they didn’t need it was their own business.

Saturday came round and he proudly strolled into Friary Park, north London, wearing his new bright red shoes. While he made a show of stretching out his hamstring a steward with a thin frame, high cheekbones, and fine black hair approached him. He had the look of a vampire in hi-viz, and moved with absolute silence. 

‘Are you the man who reviews shoes?’ he asked in a strangely formal tone.

‘That’s me, Run Dan Run.’

‘I bet the sporting companies love you.’

‘The feeling’s mutual.’ Dan chuckled in reply. 

The thin man then regarded him with a cool gaze that seemed to draw Dan in for a moment or two. He felt as if time was slowing down and his thoughts were muddling, like in the moments before sleep. The man then looked down at Dan’s shoes, before returning his eyes to him and muttering, ‘May you keep running in this pair.’ 

Dan felt a sudden chill run through his body, and quickly hurried off to the starting line, shaking his mind clear of this bizarre exchange. He stood at the front flexing his calves with all the other top runners in the pack, and waited for the start. 

As soon as the race began he took off like a gazelle, easing straight out in front. He was simply gliding. In a state of flow. Not thinking about his pace, just enjoying the sensation of the asphalt under his feet. One foot in front of the other, floating serenely like a swan on a still lake.

He stayed in first place the whole way round, it was an effortless win, but as he crossed the finish line a strange thing happened. Instead of coming to a stop he just carried on running. Some unknown force compelled him to keep going, so he went with it. Straight past the stewards, out of the park gate, and onto the main road, heading north on the A100. 

He went on in a trance-like state with barely a thought in his mind for about 20 kilometers. His subconscious dealt with road crossing and avoiding pedestrians, but there was no inner dialogue at all. He just went on and on. 

As he crossed over the M25 and reached Potters Bar, semi-coherent thoughts began to enter his mind. He realised he’d gone a lot further than planned, that he should have been home two hours ago, that he had things to do today, that this wasn’t right. 

He decided to stop. He told himself he really should go home. He willed his legs to cease, but they simply wouldn’t co-operate. He found he couldn’t come to a halt. It was like being on a treadmill that wouldn’t switch off.  

Hot lashes of panic whipped up and took hold. He cried to a man walking his dog for help, but the dog walker simply cheered and shouted, ‘Run Dan, run!’. 

He then came upon a woman pushing a buggy and yelled, ‘Help me, I can’t stop, call the police!’

But she just laughed and said, ‘You’ve got this Dan!’

Then things became increasingly weird. People started to gather along his route and film him on their phones. They told him he’d become a viral sensation. Film crews started following him on his journey, the news presenters excitedly sharing their reports to the camera. Cars would pull up beside him, the passengers leaning from the window to shout encouragement or hand him energy gels and water. The more he cried for help, the more they cheered, and the road stretched on. 

His most macabre and harrowing moment came on the outskirts of Birmingham, where he saw his wife, Rachael, and two daughters, Olivia, aged ten, and Molly, aged seven. ‘Thank god,’ he thought to himself. 

‘Rachael, I can’t stop running, do something, call someone!’ 

Rachael smiled and shouted back in response, ‘We’re proud of you Dan, keep going!’

Dan then saw Molly was holding up a cardboard sign which read 'GO DADDY :)'

It was at that point that Dan began to weep uncontrollably, his tears and sweat mingling on his shirt.

And so, after 16 days, 4 hours, 37 minutes and 29 seconds of non-stop running, Dan decided to force an end to his nightmare. His body seemed inexplicably fine with no sleep and perpetual motion, but his mind was not. He could take no more. He was deep into Scotland by this point, past Aberdeen, and he decided that instead of looping round and returning south he’d just keep going, out into the sea. 

So, with resolve, he carried on due north until his feet hit sand. ‘This is it,’ he thought to himself, ‘The finish line!’ and started hysterically whooping and howling into the air. 

As he approached the grey, murky waters of the North Sea and awaited his final relief, he saw a flash of fluorescent yellow out of the corner of his eye and turned his head to see the thin steward standing ankle deep in the surf, still wearing his hi-vis vest. 

‘That’s enough,’ said the man calmly, and semi-circled his hand. 

Dan’s feet went out from under him and he fell tumbling over, landing in a cold puddle of sea water. He looked up at the man, and suddenly felt like every bone in his body was as splintered as the driftwood that lay next to him. 

The thin man walked over, looked down on him, gestured to Dan’s feet and simply said, ‘Please…’ Dan understood, taking off the shoes, and handing them over. He was suddenly aware of hard calluses forming on his feet, like limpets on a rock.

The man regarded the trainers in his hands, now faded and battered, and muttered, ‘Well, the last thing the world needs is more new shoes.’ He then turned and hurled them out to sea with Olympic force. He caught Dan’s eye one last time and then made off up the beach without another word. 

Dan watched him leave, and then felt a sudden lurching sensation in his gut, as if he was falling over. He groaned, and then collapsed onto his back, staring at the clouds and filling his body with deep lungfuls of salty air.    

His mind drifted idly for what could have been a minute or an hour, before his old habits of thought reared up and pointed out he’d not checked his YouTube stats for over a fortnight. So he pulled out his phone from the pocket of his shorts and opened the app. 

When he tried to log in his details were rejected, so he instead tried searching for his account. But no matter how many times he entered '@RunDanRun' he couldn’t find a single video. It was as if his entire online history had been erased. All those hours spent filming, editing, reviewing, influencing. Gone. 

He instinctively considered starting again and filming a video diary there on the beach, but the thought made him sick. “No”, he muttered to himself, and instead turned and launched his phone out to sea to join the cursed shoes. The phone submerged with barely a splash, and he turned and slowly made his way back towards land.