I didn’t buy these expecting a life upgrade. I just wanted a solid running shoe not a full-blown love story. But the Brooks Glycerin 22 pulled up like, “Yo, tired of walking around like you’re 87? Say less.” First step in these things? Felt like I was gliding across memory foam made by NASA and blessed by monks. Soft, but not too soft. Supportive, like your day-one homie. My knees, ankles, and lower back? Haven’t said a word since. They’re somewhere sipping green juice and healing. Style-wise? Clean. Sleek enough that I low-key find myself flexing in store windows. Not full peacock mode but yeah, I caught the reflection. And yes, I liked what I saw. Only problem? Every other shoe I own now feels like a punishment. I put on my old trainers the other day and my feet straight up filed a complaint. Brooks, I didn’t ask to be spoiled. But you did it anyway. Respect.
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