Dear Neon-Pink Nikes.

When I pulled you out of your cardboard box two Christmases ago, you symbolized an undesirable responsibility I was shirking: exercise.

Today, as you peak out of my gym bag, you are scuffed and battered, but we’ll call it well-loved. You no longer represent an unwanted obligation, but rather an opportunity. In you, I now find movement and travel, capability and strength. You enable me in the best way possible.

You’ve proven incredibly versatile, just as comfortable in the gym as you are in the airport or the checkout aisle at CVS. You’ve moved me out of dorms and into apartments, up rock-climbing walls and down to-do lists. Together we’ve traveled the streets of Spain, meandered down Malibu beaches and conquered mountains in Colorado. While you weren’t always easy to fit into a suitcase, you stayed flexible, twisting and squishing into unnatural positions for the journey but always bouncing back to your true form when we reached the destination.

You are a fashion statement. Elderly women and toddlers alike stop me in the grocery store to complement your attention-grabbing hue. You refuse to let me forget the joy of standing out and having a bold perspective. You make me visible, and nothing completes my all-black exercise ensembles like your pop of color. Your vivid shade constantly reminds me not to take myself too seriously.

You are loyal to a fault, constantly willing to play along with me, without judgment, on days when I skip the gym, still projecting the confidence and capability of someone who had squatted twice their body weight that morning.

Times between us weren’t always smooth. Wearing you I have felt self-doubt and self-consciousness, comparing my ability to move in you to those around me. You were privy to breakdowns over body image, academic anxiety, and social stress. I slipped you on for mind-clearing walks down the street or made you a part of my worst dressed, dry-shampoo-sponsored days when looking like a real person sounded like too much of a struggle. You braved dysfunction, knowing on the other side of struggle lay success.

Now, you carry countless miles, but sixty fewer pounds than when we started our journey together. As contrite as it seems, you were an essential part of my transformation, a tool whose symbolism was often overlooked as I re-committed to changing myself time and time again. There have been countless times when I didn’t want to lace you up. You witnessed almost-give-ups and determined finishes, silently supporting whatever I put you through. 6 A.M. runs never fazed you and you didn’t even get jealous when I slipped you off to step on a yoga mat. I could not have asked for a better travel companion.

Sincerely,