The Sane & Beautiful Need Not Apply

I needed to run 5 miles. I needed to want to. And I needed a reason to make sure it happened. That little voice that was so exuberant and raring to go this morning had faded into a slightly breathy sigh which mimicked that of a dying woman. My motivation for anything seemed to rise and fall with the tides of my sugar rushes. Work was crazy and my uncontrollable candy binge was slowly choking out all hope of a productive run, or any run for that matter. But then like a little sign from above, my e-mail chimed and I noticed a new message from my sister: "want to run outside with me today my little chachi (shut up, that's one of our many nicknames for each other)?" Unfortunately she had sent it to me at low tide so I declined, siting the wind and chance of rain as possible deterrents. I managed to get through the rest of my day, although the right side of my head was starting to throb and any inclination towards running had all but disappeared.

Then 4 o'clock hit. I walked to my car and was inspired. I did want to run. And I wanted to run outside with my sister-she had evolved into my reason (ok, either it was her or my total hatred of the treadmill or the lovely marrying of the two).

I picked her up and we got to the park in no time. She likes to run with an ipod (I don't) but as we went along I could hear from the ear buds the faint beat of the bass to songs that I knew well, songs that were kinda like "our" songs. As we made our way along the path we seemed to sink deeper and deeper into sync with one another. It's nice when the connection is so strong that words are superfluous. We'd pass strange people and share a look of "what the fuck?" or see something funny like a lady rolling logs into the back of her van and smile at each other, all the while knowing the other was thinking the same things. She hates running outside in the winter so this was her first time back outside this season and it was all I could do to not burst at the seams with happiness to be back out there with her again.

So it sounds like a great run, doesn't it? It sounds as if I shook the cobwebs from my motivation and got out there and kicked some ass, doesn't it? If there is a possibility to be two people running as one, then I would like to nominate myself as president of that ill-fated sector of the masses. The run was great but my mental self ramblings were out of control. There's a blog by Kristin Armstrong (yep, Lance's ex-wife) I read on runnersworld.com. Her entries are always so poetic. She, along with many other I'm sure, really find themselves during runs. Personally, I find running lends itself well to my schizophrenic inner voice that never seems to A. shut up and B. land and stay on one topic. My internal banter volleyed around my head kind of like this:

• I think my stomach is jiggling
• it feels like I'm wearing a midriff shirt...oh wait that's just my fat inching my shirt up
• boy, I really am pigeon toed, how have I not tripped myself before?
• maybe I can blame my weird pigeon toed gait for the way my thighs rub together
• shit, it's humid-I can almost feel my hair revolting-I think it might be puffed out in some sort of twisted crazy frizzy helmet in the shape of a lion's mane
• there's dissension in the ranks of my bowels
• I just burped up pink flavored jelly beans....hhmmm, not as bad as I would have imagined
• did those stupid teenage boys just say something about my "headlights"?...it's a little windy but I'm not that cold...maybe one of my boobs are smashed down and I accidentally got one headlight pointin' at the ground...oh god, I hate getting older
• seriously, is Andre the Giant palming my head like a basketball?? Why isn't this run getting rid of my headache??
• I think I have something hanging outta my nose
• I can smell my sportsbra-oh yeah, I forgot to do the laundry last night
  
• am I so retarded that a nice run like this can't be serene? Think calm, think clear...pretend you're Kristin Armstrong (minus all her over the top religious shit)
• I suck, I can't even keep a concise train of thought going when I'm just pretending

So the war between my running side and my self loathing side continued on until my stop watch stalemated the fight. It was over and despite the lack of depth and clarity in my thoughts, one thing was for sure-accomplishment couldn't see my hideousness nor did it care to indulge in my insane ramblings any longer.