An ode to running.

I run. I’m a runner. I like to run. Running makes you feel like a champion. Never stop running. I run because I can. I run to make a difference. Make it count. Just Do It. No Pain No Gain. Aaaand Nike’s next marketing campaign: Running is the Fucking Best. Thing. Ever.

This is a bit of a stretch. I would bet that no one really cares that I am running.

It’s really all a lie. Running is painful, and hard, and it hurts. And it’s painful. You are suddenly aware of things like your knees, and not in a “Wow, my knees bend really well” kind of way. They ache and cramp and feel like some smallish person is stabbing them. But you still run. Out of nowhere you find out about something called your IT Band. And this is not a heavy metal band, or a boy band. It is not a band you want to screw around with – trust me. You don’t even want to party a little bit with your IT Band. But if you do bang up this band, you’ll still run. Because you’re badass and crazy. You are a runner.

No, just leave me here and I'll set my own tibia with my sports bra.

As if running wasn’t hard enough, there’s the running in the freezing cold thing. Super fun and sexy by the way. If you’re into girls with boogers running down their bright red faces. No photos please. I actually have yet to find a decent photo of myself running. I thought I looked cool. I really did….Not even a little. I do not look athletic or hot running… I try to look like the Nike Ads. I try really hard. I’ve even done the whole Flo-Jo thing. Full make-up and blown out hair. It’s never pretty. Never. Well, except in the before shots when I still have on my pink lipstick and my hair doesn’t look like Dwight Yoakam’s. My Finish Line photos are officially banned from Facebook by the way. Status Update: Finished another race! And just spent 11 minutes untagging myself from all Finish Line photos due to resemblance of Mr. Bean having seizure.  Side note: Hoping I look better having sex than I do whilst running. I’ll get back to you on that one.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not ALL bad. Like, you get to buy $150 sneakers with little to no guilt. Well, except for the whole not being able to buy groceries for a week thing… You also get to run races and come in 200^th and still proudly post it on Facebook. Status Update: I am a winner! And only 199 people were faster than me today. I am an athlete mutha fuckas… 200^th is really not that bad – except of course, if only 211 people are racing. But, it’s Facebook – it’s totally fine to leave out unimportant or unflattering details. Especially when you’re a runner.

 

This is me running. I mean having sex.

Another fun thing about running is beating boys. Young Boys. Another fantastic Facebook opportunity. Status Update: Once again I came in 317^th today at the 5K but hey I passed 58 boys ages 25-32. Not that I was counting or anything. Take that son! IN YOUR FACE.  I know. It is very bad etiquette to gloat as a runner – but blogging is totally anonymous so I feel like being honest. If you are a woman 35 and older and you run races – you know this makes you happy. Like orgasm happy.

They just don't give these to anyone. Okay, maybe they do.

Speaking of Facebook. Is there any better reason to run other than you get to brag on Facebook? Well, yes of course there is. But it is up there. I mean, if it doesn’t get on Facebook, does it even count? Status Update: Today I finished a race 2 seconds faster than my last race. Which was yesterday. But you know that because I posted 3 times about that race yesterday. I run. Did you know that I run? I’m a fucking runner.

Hell, sometimes all the really fast people stay home and you place 3^rd for your age group, and you are so proud of yourself you chest bump the Race Directors, ignoring the fact that they are prestigious directors of prestigious hospitals. You gloat and yell and fist pump at the Awards Ceremony, not really noticing that your family has slowly sidestepped away from your obnoxious ass. This happened to someone I know….her name rhymes with me. Who cares. It’s the closest thing to winning a race I’ll probably ever experience unless I hide in the woods and pull a Tonya Harding… I wanted to celebrate! And immediately mass text everyone I know, including my old gym teachers who gave me a D- and wrote in the comments: C has many talents, such as the most well thought out excuses for why she can’t take gym. We do hope her sneakers are found in your flooded home, her grandmother is found in Chile, her Achilles tendons are repaired, and she does stop menstruating every 5 days.

Who needs raw talent when you have a plunging neckline and a tire iron.

I also thought about texting old boyfriends, especially the annoying athletic ones. But instead, I just posted it on Facebook. Status Update: I came in 3^rd Place today.  So what if I left out erroneous information like that it was 3rd for women in my age group, over a certain weight, who live on my street, and only 84 people ran the race….I’m a winner. I’m a runner. I run.

How about the best upside to running. You lose weight fast. Like Lindsay Lohan fast. You may have to fend off a few annoying rumors that involve Crystal Meth, Bulimia and Ephedra. But, let your haters be your motivators. Whatever the hell that means. 

What? I'm totally into running. I don't give a shit what you say.

Really, what running has done for me, is it has pushed me beyond my limits. It has taken me out of my comfort zone. It makes me challenge myself. At times it even makes me have schizophrenic-like conversations in my head with that voice that says… Stop. It’s easier to walk….I say: Shut up asshole. I don’t walk. I am a runner. Stop talking to me in that creepy mean voice.

If only McMurphy was into running. Wait? McMurphy is hot.

Running is also a great way to make new friends. I recently joined a running club, and have met some amazing people. Running opens doors and awesome people run through them. It has been a life-changing experience for me. Because of this badass group of people, I ran my first ½ marathon. (Thanks T) Of course, I immediately bought a <13.1> sticker to put on my car. So, now I am officially that girl, who brags to everyone driving behind me: I ran a ½ marathon bitches – and that makes me special and athletic and a little douchey. But I’m proud. I can run for 13 miles in a row. And then go an extra POINT ONE.  Yeah I can.

Honey badger totally gives a shit.

If you run, you too probably have a love/hate relationship with it. I was afraid to admit this. But, most runners do love it andhate it. Like say…childbirth. You look forward to it, and dread it. You hate it while you’re going through it. At times you want to throw yourself in front of oncoming traffic (oh is that just me?). It is painful and exhilarating. But when it is finally over, and you hold your newborn in your arms (analogy gets a little shaky here) you are so happy and proud of yourself. You forget the pain. You forget the agony. And because you are just a little insane and high from endorphins, you just can’t wait to do it all over again. Oh, and you totally get to brag about it on Facebook. Again.

Status Update: I just ran 100 miles and didn’t even need an epidural.

Epidurals are for wusses. Put the gun down. I'm kidding. Epidurals are amazing. I kind of want one. Right now.