I’ve recently begun to train for a marathon. Don’t panic, the race is over six months from now. Also, let’s be realistic, I am not running a race. I am entering an event, which I plan to finish.
I am clearly a young, fit, strong, fast, insert other positive and healthy adjectives here, woman. Here is the deal though: every time I go running, only a chubby, old, slow, lady shows up. She is the same woman whom I see in glimpses as I pass my reflection in the grocery store windows or the security monitor.
At first, I didn’t recognize her. However, the more often I see her, the more familiar this strange woman becomes.
I’ve decided it might be time to contact the authorities because she has started to hold me hostage. No matter what I do, I can’t escape her. I can’t run enough to get away from her.
I try to avoid restaurants where I might see her, but I get a craving for Chick-Fil-A, and God knows that aging woman with a soft round belly is there. She is getting old, not stupid.
You would think I’d be able to get away since she is always tired. However, by the time I get through work, helping with homework, cleaning from dinner, and driving the kids all over, I realize I don’t have time or energy to do anything but meet her on the couch and snuggle right in with her.
I know age is just a state of mind, but someone should tell that to my body because she is pretty sure that I am pushing 40 when my mind is still hanging out in the late 20s. Good thing running is a mental sport.
If you see a slightly graying, chubby woman running at a “relaxed” pace, be sure to cheer loudly for her. Somewhere inside, trying really hard to come out, is a young woman ready to conquer the world one mile at a time.