So, I ran yesterday. On purpose.
Nothing big and scary was chasing me, and there was no imminent threat of death to a small child.
I used to run all the time. I like running. I'm just terrible at it. Worse than you're imagining, I promise. I am not really supposed to run because of my knees, so that's my excuse. It's not my fault I suck at it. Really.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Anyway, I ran. It helps that I had a really good reason. I'm running for Miles for Donna. I can flail in public in her memory. Besides, I'm sure it's funny as hell for people to watch. I'm not just doing a good thing, I'm providing entertainment services here, people.
I strapped the boy into the stroller, laced up my shiny new shoes and off we went.
It was gorgeous out there.
We got about halfway down this stretch and I could hear someone approaching from behind. It's hard to be out in the woods like this with someone else's feet coming up behind you without having horror movie scenes running through your head.
I could just see the headline.
Sweaty middle-aged mother killed while attempting to run. Four year old son escapes because he's been able to outrun his mom for years. Killer could be heard laughing moments before the attack.
Not to worry, the person approaching from behind was just a runner. I'd say another runner, but then I'd be somehow implying that I'm one in the first place. Which clearly isn't true.
He passed me easily and disappeared around the bend. Whew. We were safe.
Then running towards me was that girl. You know the one. She's in her twenties, and her outfit is all matchy matchy. Even the shoes match. Her hair is in a perfect ponytail and she's wearing makeup to run. Gigantic boobs heaving with each magnificent stride. Yep. That girl. The one that makes you feel like the hot mess you are.
And then you giggle nervously after she passes and somehow convince yourself that you're doing awesome just for being out here.
Thank god the trail was empty for a while after that. My ego needed a break for a bit.
That, and I really don't want people watching me flail. Especially when they have perky boobs and thighs that don't give them a round of applause while running. That's why I run in places no one can see.
I got back around to the main lake, only to see it lined with fisherman. Every thirty feet or so, perched along the shoreline, there they were. There's a uniform for this too. Must be between the ages of 35-50, must be working on a beard. May have a friend with you, but only if you never speak. I've never seen anyone catch a fish on this lake, but they sure seem committed to trying.
As I was passing one guy, I was so tempted to take up fishing. I could get behind the idea of hanging out on the water all by myself. I wouldn't actually want to catch anything because that's gross...but I would love to be alone and bored for a while.
A teeny part of me was tempted to wave hi, ask if he'd ever caught anything, but I didn't want to break the rules. No talking. No eye contact. Don't mess with the solitude.
Then I thought about it another way....would I want someone stopping me and asking if I needed help? If I was having a medical emergency? No...really, I am okay. This is how I run.
I'm fine! Leave me alone! There's nothing to see here, move along!
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