Runners are sexy. How sexy is it to say with all the nonchalance you can muster, “I’m gonna go for a quick run…” How sexy is it to answer the phone with the faint hint of shortness of breath, “Sorry, I just got back from a run…” How sexy is it to ride around town with that 26.1 sticker plastered on your rear window because only RUNNERS know what that means. Yeah.
So last night, I went running. Actually, it was more of a jog. Then a walk. Then a slower jog. And another walk. And an even slower jog. And a walk. And then a crying crawl back home to the finish line. I stupidly didn’t bring any water. How parched can one become on a 2-mile trot/crawl? Apparently, very. My ears were ringing after that first mile, which was exactly one mile away from my front door, so I had no choice but to keep going. It’s not like I had a buddy in a car tailing me with ice packs, protein goo and a glucose drip. I was on my own. And for every car that passed, I felt the need to make it look like I wasn’t struggling. No, I was giving the impression of an athlete in training for her second marathon, hoping to improve my time by a full 3 minutes. They just caught me at the end of my training. At least, that’s what I was thinking in my head.
I did get one startling honk from behind from a very happy Hispanic man waving like a crazy person at me as he passed. He was either impressed by my marathon training and wanted to show support or he really likes white chicks with flat, square booties. Either way, I smiled and waved back. I needed the encouragement.
So I finally got home and suddenly started sweating. Profusely. And I continued this sweating process for a good half an hour before I finally cooled off enough to take a cool shower. But then after I got out, my body was still hot, and it stayed that way for the next couple of hours. I was thinking I’d either narrowly avoided heat stroke or I was still burning calories. So to celebrate the latter, I consumed an entire tub of hummus. Why? WHY?????
So am I a runner now?