Monday, April 28, 2014

True Tips for Women about Running

A little less than three years ago I started running “by accident.” A membership to a runner’s group was included in something I purchased. I didn’t want to use it so I tried to resell it – and no one else wanted it either. Being the cheap bastard I am, I decided to join the runner’s group. Ten half marathons and thirteen full marathons later, I’m still running. It’s not because I love it, exactly, and it’s certainly not because I’m good at it (whatever that means). It’s mainly because everyone needs something to “do” and right now, this is what I do.

At 36 I’m a little south still of middle-age (mainly because I plan to live to 100 although I reserve the right to push that date around a bit). I feel I’m somewhat representative of a certain group of women: a little south of middle-aged, professional, enjoys physical activity, some discretionary income. Consequently, there is a ton of advice that is sent to me and my running sisters: what to wear, what to expect, how to act, how to look. That’s all great but I’m here to tell you not a lot of that matters. If you’re going to run, here’s the God’s honest truth about what you need to know.

Timberly’s Totally Transparent Top Ten Tplaylist [The T Is Silent]

Yesterday I ran a marathon which really means that I stumbled through it at my typically glacial pace. The bad news about being a slow runner is I’m on the course forever: it’s cold, it’s exhausting, and it’s occasionally a smidgeon demoralizing. The good news is I get plenty of time to make it through a good chunk of my iPod library. Coming in at a couple thousand tunes, my running playlist has plenty of variety: Beatles, Alabama Shakes, Flipron, AC/DC, ZZ Top, Metallica, Johnny Cash, Mika, and, yes, even a little (very little) Pitbull.

It’s this variety that made it surprising that in the five hours I was out on the course that I discovered that I have six songs about cellophane. Who knew that this transparent product was so popular? No longer merely the stuff of leftover dinners or frustrated horny housewives who have shrink-wrapped themselves trying to surprise their disinterested husbands, cellophane is practically de rigueur.