Hi and welcome to a post about my personal life…and running, of course, and how one effects the other.
So um…I’m bad at dating. Mainly because I hate everything about it. I hate the “first date” scenario and all the debating/worrying/stressing that goes along with it (Overdressed? Underdressed? Jeans or no jeans? How much makeup do I put on? Do I straighten my hair or keep it natural?). I hate thinking about what I’m doing wrong and overanalyzing every single thing that happens (Should I text him, or wait for him to text me? What does it mean if I don’t hear from him for two or three days? Did I say something wrong? Did I have something in my teeth?). I constantly second guess myself and frankly I end up throwing in the towel before anything can happen because I just don’t believe any guy will ever be legitimately interested in me.
All that being sad…I am trying. I putting forth an effort. Reluctantly.
I don’t have too many great qualities right now so I don’t expect much. I mean, I live at home and I lost my job so I’m sure I sound like a real winner. But some guys aren’t bothered by this and try to get to know me. At which point I am at a loss because I don’t know what to say about myself other than “I like to run.”
Men have strange reactions when I tell them I run or am training for a half marathon.
The common stereotype is that all runners are all really thin, fit, and in fantastic shape. Sorry boys, not the case with me. Runners come in all shapes and sizes, and I am definitely a chubby runner. I understand that this is disappointing, but there’s not much I can do about it. The “eating healthy” thing is a work in progress and this is what I look like at the moment.
I’m not a fast or impressive runner. Running is hard for me. I struggle with it. I’m not a natural. I won’t break any records or win any races. 10-11 minute miles are where it’s at for me.
That being said, I am, surprisingly enough, sort of a distance runner training for my first endurance event, the half marathon. Parts of my day, my life, my way of thought, are a bit different than those of a “normal” girl.
On long run days, a good chunk of my day (an hour or longer) is spent running. The rest of the day is probably spent recovering from said long run and napping, resting and eating.
Running helps with my mood A LOT. But other times it does make me bitchy. Don’t expect a happy Amy after a hard, bad, miserable run.
I like to talk about running. It’s probably my favorite topic to ramble about (hence this blog). So if you can’t handle my chatter about mile splits, shin splints, running shoes, fuel, hydration, stomach issues, hills, speedwork, and anything relevant or pertaining to running, don’t bother.
After a run, I do not want to dress to impress. I want to take a hot (or cold) shower, put on sweatpants, and plop on the couch with a bagel. And I usually want a nap.
I don’t have cute feet. I have calluses and usually a blister or two.
I rewear my sports bras, running tights, and capris. Running clothes are expensive and I’m on a budget.
My (somewhat) excessive running and exercise habits are not driven by a desire to look good in a string bikini and impressive boys. I have, like, goals and stuff. Kind of crazy ones…like running a marathon at some point in my life, hopefully before I’m 30. I know, WEIRD. Weight loss would be nice, and yeah I’m hoping for it, but it’s not my primary motivation.
These are a few of the joys of hanging out with a runner. That being said, just because I run does not mean you have to run. This is another strange phenomena I have discovered. I’ve gotten quite a few “Sorry I’m not a runner”s. Um, just because I like to run does not mean you have to run. If you do, cool. If not, that’s cool too. Heck I’m happy if you do something. To me, exercise is about finding something you enjoy doing. If you don’t like to run, don’t do it. I personally hate any kind of fitness class involving dancing. I have no rhythm and I feel like it’s pointless. So I don’t do it because it’s not fun for me. If that’s wrong, I don’t want to be right.
Okay, pointless rambling over. And now you know way too much about me. Sorry about that.