So I have a confession to make. Since leaving for the trail I have started an affair. A shameful and morally inexcusable affair – I cheated on my slippers. Seven years ago my aunt and uncle (shout out to Amy and Jon) gave me a pair of slippers for my birthday. These slippers have been called man uggs, mugs, slips, and most recently…disgusting (shout out to Lindsey). Disgusting because these slippers have been with me literally everywhere. I trudged through Chicago blizzards in them, have camped in them, have hiked in them, have taken them to China, have peed on them, spit on them, let dogs chew on them…the list goes on and on. I know every nook and cranny that my toes and heels nestle into. I love them. Despite the love my slippers have shown me I have cheated on them with a pair of dark blue Crocs. Crocs! Since I first saw Crocs eons ago I thought they were hideous. I swore that I would never own or be caught dead wearing a pair of them. But alas I have folded and now I am completely and utterly in love with them. At about mile three of the day I start daydreaming about my Crocs. I swoon thinking of their subtle curves and get sweaty palms thinking of sliding my feet inside them. It is the single thing I look forward to most after a long day of hiking. The cats out of the bag. Somewhere my slippers are checking in on me and will have discover the truth. I just hope that I can work out enough space in my heart for two beloved pairs of shoes.