Typically I do not eat acidic food before I run; it causes running that just doesn’t fly with me (if anyone knows me well enough, they’ll understand). In fact, normally all I eat before my daily run is whatever I can fish out of my freezer in the morning. Then I will have coffee when I get to work. That not only opens my eyes for a fun-filled day of writing, but it also helps me get down to racing weight with enough time to try and get a couple of co-workers to run with me.
On this particular day, I woke up with a different feeling. Somehow the world seemed to be rotating differently, I woke up already knowing what I was going to wear, and there was enough hot water in my shower that I didn’t have to curse out anybody in the house under my breath.
I got to work that morning and almost before I could get my lunch into the fridge, a co-worker was asking me to whore out my running blog. What the….!? Geez, can’t a girl even say good morning to someone anymore without her goods being offered out for the world to just use? I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to tie a hot sauce whore blog into my running expertise blogs. Look, I am not a whore. And my running isn’t either.
But alas, I at least tried the hot sauce. I am young, adventurous. I didn’t get many opportunities to experiment in high school, so I have to take advantage when I can. The sauce wasn’t bad. I got a little bit nervous eating it before running…. You know.
So then it came down to run time. And damned if I didn’t run the sh** out of that run! No joke. I was unstoppable. Maybe it was fate, maybe it was the hot sauce. But it let me run before running out of me.
Dear Pink Eye,
We weren’t meant to be. You and I don’t belong. And now that you are gone, I can sleep at night knowing that I will wake up with both of my eyes, and it will no longer be a struggle to open that eye only to see you staring right back at me. It’s not you; it’s me. I can’t bear to go through one more day with a hat on trying to hide the fact that we were intimately related for that brief time. It was hard enough hiding you from my co-workers and other significant people in my life. No one could stand looking at me, with you staring right back and making them cringe. It was bad enough that they could not look at me, but even looking at you made me cringe and turn away in disappointment. i felt shunned, poisoned, inapproachable. We wouldn’t have lasted. If we are to meet again, I hope it is on one of my high school enemies that I have sworn revenge on. It was a hell of an adventure, but I must move on. Please understand.
Sincerely,
Erin
1. Run a 1:30 half-marathon
2. Run sub 3:10 marathon
3. Run in another country
4. Re-Implement 4-minute “no more flub six pack club” abs
5. Apply for grad school
*This is for my own sake. So I have them written somewhere- help if you wish.
You might not have the energy, but you definitely feel like the shit after finishing a race…. here is how I would write one of these blogs after running. (I wish I could say that I wrote this on my own)
The first run biznack brotha a marathon is like… well, like yo first run. I rememba mah fiznirst cross country practice . I started yo shit and i’ll end yo’ shit. I came ta practice in some Fizzle tennis shoes, think’n they wizzy good enough runn’n shoes coz they were tha sportiest shoes I had cuz Im tha Double O G. I was doing tha short rizzle which was `bout a 10 minute warm-up, stretch, n thizzen a 10 minute run bizzy ta school. I didn’t “know” how ta run, so I put one fizzle in F-R-to-tha-izzont of tha otha, stared dizzay at mah shadow, n curled mah arms up in fear that I might look like I don’t knizzay how ta run. I couldn’t quite git a steady rhythm yeah yeah baby. My legs were runn’n a muck n mah breath’n, oh man, I fizzay like I was blow’n out candles but had ta do it only breath’n out mah nizzle , chill yo. I thought thizzay if I had ta breathe in n out of mah grill that thugz would kizzle thiznat I didn’t know ho ta run . Ya fuck with us, we gots to fuck you up. `bout 2 minutes into tha rizzun, I was breath’n heavily, dragg’n mah feet, n want’n ta gizzle up straight from long beach nigga. Thizzat seems like just yesterday fo’ real.
Wait, it was in all flavas. I ran fo` tha first tizzy this week, n felt like I didn’t know what I was do’n. I tried ta run brotha than mah last few miles of tha marathon, but who knows if I really was. Probably not now pass the glock Anotha dogg house production.. I riznan, did tha usual run shiznit. I even timed it! But it was awkward n ended up being a rizzle blingin’ with my hoes on my side, and my strap on my back. It was gonna takes time until I gots back into it.
For most people, it feels good to get a little ego boost every once in a while. For the slightly cocky, we call it motivation. The trick is, to take what you are good at, and show it off. Not only will you feel better about yourself, but you can even begin telling yourself that you are motivating others to push themselves to your level. Everyone benefits.
I know not everyone runs every day with the same goals as I do (to run a 3 hour marathon), but they don’t know why I am running and I sure don’t know why they are. Maybe it’s a weight goal or a fitness test to see how they compare to their college days. Hey, someone else in the world might actually be trying to reach that 3 hour goal. The point is you can feed off of people that are out there doing what you do, just as they probably feed off of you.
I was running today again at lunch; not my standard squeeze-in-as-much-distance-before-the-boss-notices-i-took-more-than-an-hour-lunch run. My knee has been nagging me at the beginning of my runs; “the most critical part” some say. Dreading the risk of going too far and injuring myself, I wanted to take it easy. But after seeing some inspiring words from my high school mentor, I had to at least go out there and do something. Plus, what would everyone at work think if I skipped my run!?
As I began running, I came up behind a runner who saw me and probably got nervous of my speed and great running form (luckily no one can “see” an injury until it stops you from running). I started to pass him around a corner. I was on the outside, so we ran side by side for a couple of strides. I turned and gave the usual running wave that puts the running community in as much exclusivity as Hell’s Angels and other bikers. He panted, “I am going to try and keep up with you.” I took that as maybe he was gonna try and carry on a conversation and somehow that made me slow down, to which he replied, “No, you don’t have to slow down.”
Weellll alllright, if you say so.
So I admit; I ran a little harder than usual. How could I not if someone was going to try and pace off of me. Plus, this is the start of the ego boost. I didn’t have any music with me so I could hear his heavy breathing struggling to keep up with mine. It got a bit fainter as I continued down the business park road. Other 9 to 5ers walking around on their lunch were looking over; whether it was amazement that I was winning or just that people were running when it was about to rain I will never know. I thought I might have been getting too cocky and tired myself out because I suddenly heard his breathing heavier and heavier with every step that I began to hear as well. Then finally, just one or two strides behind me, he shouted, “Thanks for the push! Have a good run,” and he stopped running.
When I looked back, I put my hand up as I did originally and suddenly my ego was up and I was glad I decided to run. I started thinking about how fast I suddenly felt and must have looked to cars sitting at each of the intersections I had to cross. I thought of that guy and how he just got in a little bit of a workout when he probably wasn’t planning it. (OK, I also hoped that he was impressed with my speed). Now that’s what I call an ego boost! No, wait; I call it motivation…
