Those are my shoes

The indoor air was getting stale. I marched straight past the living room toward the front door, seeking open ground. A pair of heavy, mud-caked outdoor boots guarded the threshold like stone monoliths. Between them lay a tangled snarl of thick nylon shoelace blocking my clearance. I did not detour. I lowered my center, grabbed the stiff cord with both fists, and pulled back hard against my heels. The knot groaned, snapped free of the tread, and swung open. Beyond the wood, the hallway corridor beckoned.