Goodr Going to Valhalla… Witness! – The OG Sunglasses

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Classic shape with new levels of style and performance. We designed these shades to look good and fit comfortably on your face whether you’re haulin’ ass down a mountain trail or drinking beers in a Mexican cantina.

Pro tip: forget sucking oxygen at some aid station, that’s for losers and weaklings. Instead, try silver spray paint while rocking these gray and chrome shades. You may not receive the same benefits as oxygen, but you’ll be flying to Valhalla, guaranteed.

NO SLIP. NO BOUNCE. ALL FUN.

  • No Slip – We use special grip coating to construct our frame to help eliminate slippage when sweating.
  • No Bounce – Our frame is snug and light-weight, with a comfortable fit to prevent bouncing while running.
  • No Leopards – Plus, no one wearing goodr running sunglasses has ever been attacked by a leopard (as far as we know).

Made For:

  • Running

Great For:

  • Biking
  • Beasting

Going to Valhalla Origin Story:

Excerpt from George Miller’s Diary, December 17, 1992

This Outback Outhouse was exactly as you would expect it to be, the stench of urinal cakes and meat pie blow outs permeated the air for miles around; but at mile 43 in a trail race across the Tanami Desert in Australia being chased by Koalaroos, you take what you can get.

As the door swung open, propelled by some kind of invisible spring-loaded magic, there hung a silver vending machine directly over a lustrous silver throne. I was losing time in the race, but no bother, this machine had to be investigated. After 17 wooden nickels and three swift turns of the glistening silver knob, a spray can with a haiku etched around the top was dispensed. I read aloud the simple poem:

Witness Valhalla!
True Glory Everlasting
Silver Shine, Press Here

And followed the instruction. As the silver spray burst forth, I was flung into deep space. I flew over the desert as smash-cut images filled the panorama: pregnant goddesses dressed in white — thirsty starving masses begging for water — trucks racing through the desert — electric-guitar-playing blind freaks suspended in front of a vehicle — and I knew, my fourth Mad Max film had to be written.

The next thing I know, I awoke in a motel 6 in Kearney, Nebraska, United States, in a haze of silver spray paint, the full screenplay painted on the walls, floor and linens. I never did finish that race (or at least I never picked up my finisher’s medal).

Occasionally, without notice, manufacturers change product design and/or specifications.

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