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There is no therapy as good as a long, hard trail run.

Except maybe coming across $240 you thought was lost forever.

I went for a long trail run on Saturday on the trails of Mt. Tam. Tam is a smallish mountain, so if you venture along its flanks for several miles you get to cross through several vegetation zones. I started in lush forest, with mossy redwoods, babbling creeks, ferns, lots of mud, and the sweet, rich smell of rotting leaves underfoot and overhead. Soon I was running through scrubby brush and manzanita trees, enjoying expansive views of the city and the ocean, which was partially blanketed with fog like a fluffy down comforter laid down to keep it warm. The final stretch of trail before my turnaround was wide-open grassland, and the trail was only about eighteen inches of flat dirt cut into a very steep hillside marked occasionally by a sprawling oak tree. The sweeping ocean views from that section of the Coastal Trail are priceless.

Being on these trails made me think of The Boots. I bought The Boots at REI in anticipation of some pretty heavy backpacking and trail work we had planned. I wore them once (on this same trail) and quickly decided that they were too uncomfortable, too heavy, or both. Just too much boot for my needs. So I put them back in the box and hid them away in the closet. I was too embarrassed to return them after hiking in them. Every now and then I felt a hint of guilt when I saw them hiding back there in the closet, but they sat there for five years. Meanwhile, I bought more comfortable boots for backpacking.

Last spring I finally pulled The Boots out of the closet and took them to an outdoor-gear resale shop, hoping to get some money for them, anything. At the very least I wanted them out of the closet, where they were taking up valuable space. The woman at the shop looked at them, looked at the still-pristine REI price sticker, and asked if I had tried to return them. No, I told her sheepishly. She strongly recommended that I at least try -- REI was right across the street -- and come back if they wouldn't take them.

I didn't even have a receipt. But the woman at the customer service desk typed my REI membership number into the computer, telling me that their records go back until early 2000. The Boots were in there. I had bought them almost exactly five years earlier. She cheerfully credited my credit card the full $225 (!) purchase price plus sales tax. I apologized for hanging on to them for so long, but she said, "No worries, no worries at all."

Suze Orman would point out how much interest I could have made on that money if it had been in the bank instead of collecting dust in my closet. But I'm just thrilled that I got anything back at all.

November 1, 2005 7:59 AM