On Sunday I replaced these hiking boots.

These weren't just any hiking boots - they were all leather Italian Zamberlans with Vibram soles. In my mind, these were, like, the hot fudge sundae of hiking boots. They kicked, well, you know. . . .
The boots were tough to break in. I remember quarter-sized blisters on both my heels, pressure points on my ankles, and chafing at the spot where the cuff of the boot tightened around my lower calf. But once broken in, these boots were the best.
I've had them longer than I've known Mike, possibly longer than I've known Miso.
They've been hiking, backpacking, and after-ski wearing in:
Montana
Hawaii
Massachusetts
California
Oregon
Washington
Idaho
Colorado
Wyoming
Vermont
New Hampshire
Virginia
Maine
British Columbia
Alberta
Japan
Australia
New Zealand
France
Switzerland
They've had a good, long, full life. No boots could ever ask for more.
I wore out the original insoles, and I wore out the original laces.
But all good things must come to end. And the end has been long in coming; it is entirely possible that the boots needed to be replaced two years ago. The breaking point came last summer after our backpacking trip. I ended the trip with purple nail polish. Except it wasn't nail polish. The boots had finally reached the end of their life and now I was bleeding under my toe nails. Yes, it hurt. A lot.
But it was still with a heavy heart that I went to REI. They were so good, for so long.
R.I.P.