Right, so the year-long challenge is 365 trainers in 365 days (he says, quickly Googling “leap years” just to make sure – phew).
As I explain on this page – where you can also donate (which is the point of the whole thing) – people who know me know I love trainers (commence copy and paste for a few paragraphs). I have a stupid amount of them, and a couple of years ago I Tweeted 28 Days Of Trainers throughout February, when I photographed myself wearing 28 different pairs of trainers, a pair for each day of the month.
So yeah, I’ve spent far too much on trainers and now it’s time I put them to good use.
Because now, for charity, I’m going to attempt A Year Of Trainers. Yep, 365 days wearing 365 different pairs of trainers.
All proceeds to the Sir Terry Pratchett-supported Alzheimer’s Research UK.
Problem is – and where it becomes a challenge (and therefore worth sponsoring) for me – even I don’t own 365 pairs of trainers.
So, after I’ve worked my way through my collection I’m going to have to beg, steal or borrow (maybe not steal) Size 9s wherever I can get them. And probably get some strange looks in the process.
Copy and paste ends…
And since announcing this challenge earlier today Tracy Lister has also suggested another way which things could be fun… for you, not me. Finding the most ghastly, embarrassing trainers for me to wear. I also think, with a year long challenge, I’m going to have to come up with a few stunts or events periodically to keep momentum going, so suggestions welcome (how about trying to get David Tennant to sign a pair of sandshoes…?)
Anyway, I thought I’d better kick off the year with something clearly sci-fi related, hence the Riddler converse, which I bought a a couple of years ago in Oxford Street before just an Arthur Darvill interview (he loved ’em). You wouldn’t believe the amount of times someone’s said, “Love the Joker trainers.” I’ve given up correcting ’em.
I also made this – godawful – video just to prove it is actually me wearing them! I’ve kept it small to spare you the full horror of a vid-selfie.
I suppose I should wear a standard pair of black high-tops in honour of the zillion or so sci-fi characters who wear them (Chuck, chiefly) but anyone who follows me on Twitter will know my mum took it upon herself to clean them over Christmas, and they currently look faintly ridiculous – gleaming white rubber against faded, hole-ridden canvas. They look like the trainer version of an aging Hollywood actor with gleaming white gnashers set against a wrinkly, leathery face.
The first few weeks of this blog may not be very exciting, but I’m guessing that as my collection runs out and I have to start getting “creative” (or you lot start getting creative) there may be a few (embarrassing) stories to tell…
AND DON’T FORGET TO DONATE!
(Hmmm… too much Converse today. Must choose another brand tomorrow so it doesn’t look like product placement)
(Oh, and Crocs do NOT count as trainers – I will not be wearing Crocs… EVER!)
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