Listen. I have a blog. You have to be an attention whore to have a blog. Seriously. Why else would you assume anyone gives a shit about what you eat or how you sweat? We're all ego driven attention whores.
Anyway.
I like cat calls. It means someone took a moment out of whatever he was doing to let me know I look good. And let's face it, I look good. And I enjoy being told I look good. Especially while running.
I spent three months in Central America after college. I was told repeatedly by people down there that men would cat call me all the time, and to not feel threatened, because that's just what men down there did. I don't know if that's true, or some awful stereotype, but that's why I was told by people who lived there. And it was true for me. All the time. Blond pale as shit girl. I stood out. And I got used to it.
Anyway.
I ran today.
A little over three miles. It felt like much longer. But, the weather was cooler, and I was doing it.
I also did some gardening. The grape vines in the front of our house are a little out of control.
Running. *sigh*
It was nice to just be out there. I only know the distance because I mapped it out once I got home, in some sick home that it would magically be much, much farther. But, nope. Part of me is hesitant to push it too hard so I don't get hurt or kill myself and ruin everything. But I might be wussing out too much.
I don't know.
Also, I think I got a blister. THREE FUCKING MILES. That is unacceptable.
Well, okay, it's acceptable. It would take too much effort (beyond engaging the caplocks key) to do anything about it.
How can I be so awesome and so lazy at the same time?
Anyway.
I like cat calls. It means someone took a moment out of whatever he was doing to let me know I look good. And let's face it, I look good. And I enjoy being told I look good. Especially while running.
I spent three months in Central America after college. I was told repeatedly by people down there that men would cat call me all the time, and to not feel threatened, because that's just what men down there did. I don't know if that's true, or some awful stereotype, but that's why I was told by people who lived there. And it was true for me. All the time. Blond pale as shit girl. I stood out. And I got used to it.
Anyway.
I ran today.
A little over three miles. It felt like much longer. But, the weather was cooler, and I was doing it.
I also did some gardening. The grape vines in the front of our house are a little out of control.
Running. *sigh*
It was nice to just be out there. I only know the distance because I mapped it out once I got home, in some sick home that it would magically be much, much farther. But, nope. Part of me is hesitant to push it too hard so I don't get hurt or kill myself and ruin everything. But I might be wussing out too much.
I don't know.
Also, I think I got a blister. THREE FUCKING MILES. That is unacceptable.
Well, okay, it's acceptable. It would take too much effort (beyond engaging the caplocks key) to do anything about it.
How can I be so awesome and so lazy at the same time?
If you don't like it, sto it. Why do you force yoursef to enjoy everything?
ReplyDeleteJust stop it.
This is a good point, and advice I would give to a friend. Mostly, I'm still hoping the joy I had for running mere months ago comes back. I guess I need to figure out how long I'm willing to subject myself to not liking it before I should quit for good.
DeleteMy main takeaway here is that you're a whore.
ReplyDeleteIt's nice to look good, and nice for other people to tell you so. I always like the looks and cat calls i get as well. Even if they think I'm gay.
ReplyDeleteIf I didn't also read Kara's blog, I would be offended by her comment if I were you. :) I'm the laziest marathon coach you will ever meet. And I'm awesome. So there.
ReplyDeleteYou're just a tenderfoot now. Believe me, I get it, as I've just been getting back into running and was rewarded for my efforts with two blisters.
ReplyDeleteThat's 3 more miles than I've run in the last week!
ReplyDeleteI'd rather get cat calls than horn honks. I jump out of my skin every time someone comes up behind me and honks. The extra sucky thing is a lot of the time it is my step-dad's dad that is honking.
Who doesnt like cat calls? Wish I got one or two in my day.
ReplyDelete