Answer:
Each morning I appear to lie at your feet, all day I follow no matter how fast you run. Yet I nearly perish in the midday sun.
Always old, sometimes new. Never sad, sometimes blue. Never empty, sometimes full. Never pushes, always pulls.
I can be cracked, I can be made. I can be told, I can be played.
Although my cow is dead, I still beat herΒ What a racket she makes.
Someone walked into a room and you heard a crash! Someone died. What happened?
People take me on walks and I run and have fun. What am I?