Rundefeated

What do a failed police academy test, a low-cost airline, and four pairs of Hokas have in common? A decade of running stories with thick soles and even thicker memories. Read my latest misadventure here!

Let’s get one thing straight: I’ve been running since 2016, and in that time, I’ve gone through more shoes than a millipede on a shopping spree. Some wore out fast, some betrayed me with blisters, and some were so ugly they only saw the light of day at 5 AM runs when no one else was watching. But amidst the chaos of soles and insoles, one brand has consistently overachieved in durability, comfort, and thick-soled weirdness: Hoka.

Now, I don’t know what kind of ancient mountain wizardry they put into their foam, but Hoka shoes simply refuse to die. My first pair was the Hoka Bondi 5. Bought it back when my 5K pace was basically a brisk walk with extra sweating. I ran with those shoes for a whopping 1,011 kilometers. How do I know the exact number? Because Nike Run Club app keeps a grim tally like some ancient scribe chronicling my noble battles against laziness.

I only retired my Bondi 5 not because it gave up on me, but because life threw a plot twist. A family member failed his police academy test in the running section. Devastated, he turned to me like Simba looking at Mufasa, “Teach me, oh seasoned runner.” But what he actually meant was, “Can I borrow your good running shoes for a retest?” Long story short, he aced it on the second try — now he’s a police officer, probably chasing perps while my old Bondi 5s carry him to justice.

After saying farewell to the Bondi 5, I moved on to the Clifton 5 Knit. Now, if Bondi was the reliable family sedan, Clifton Knit was the stylish hatchback you take for brunch. Sleek, comfy, and lightweight, I racked up 641 kilometers on those babies. But when they reached semi-retirement, they didn’t end up in a box in the garage. Nope. I turned them into my walking shoes. Because when a Hoka gets too old to run, it still out-walks half the sneakers in your closet.

Then came the Hoka Bondi 7, and oh boy — what a pair of jack-of-all-trade shoes. This one became my MVP travel companion. You see, when you travel with a low-cost carrier, baggage restrictions turn you into a minimalist philosopher. “Do I really need this second pair of socks?” So when I can only bring one pair of shoes, it has to be versatile. Bondi 7 handles it all: jogging in parks, standing in museum queues, and surviving sketchy side streets at 2 AM in a foreign city.

Not to mention, that thick sole isn’t just for cushioning — it’s practically insulation. In mild winter conditions, while my nose froze and my fingers threatened mutiny, my feet remained cozy. Hoka should seriously consider selling these in ski resorts as casual snow boots for the fashionably lazy.

And then there’s my latest addition: the Hoka Clifton 9. Sleek, modern, and with that unmistakable Hoka bounce, it’s still in active duty. It hasn’t clocked in enough kilometers for a retirement plan yet, but I have a feeling it’ll follow in its ancestors’ footsteps (literally) and become another long-lasting companion.

The thing about Hoka shoes is that they look like they shouldn’t work. That ridiculously thick sole? Looks like someone glued a mattress to your foot. But start running, and suddenly you’re floating like a cloud that ate too many marshmallows. It’s weird. It’s wonderful.

People sometimes ask, “Why do you keep buying Hokas?” And my answer is simple: they last. I’ve had shoes from other brands that feel like they were made of breadsticks. Hoka? It’s like running on an indestructible pillow. And even after 1,000 kilometers, the midsole still feels like it’s had its morning coffee.

Durability aside, Hokas have become my travel cheat code. One shoe to rule them all. When I can’t gamble on a second pair, Hoka comes along. Hikes? Check. Mild winters? Check. Walking aimlessly through airports during layovers? Check. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re secretly military-grade equipment.

Looking back at my four Hokas, they aren’t just shoes. Each pair marks a chapter. The Bondi 5 reminds me of starting this hobby. The Clifton 5 Knit of my half-marathon days. The Bondi 7 of impulsive plane tickets. And the Clifton 9 of this very moment, as I type this article, plotting my next run.

So if you ask me which brand makes the most durable shoes in my collection — I won’t even blink. It’s Hoka. The chunky, quirky, cloud-bouncing Hoka. And if someday Hoka makes running boots for space marathons on Mars, you can bet your life savings I’ll be first in line.