Dang Girl...

On a recent run, the topic of discussion naturally amongst us young women turned to the opposite gender. Gentlemen, if you get a little queasy by cooties… Keep reading and don’t be a pansy.

It is naturally segued as we have already covered everything else, from previous evenings dinner to the nature of the world. We have to discuss the intricacies and wonderings of the gender so perplexing to us.

Guys have the same conversations right??

Ok, so, the conversation began by discussing someone who currently has a crush on one of my friends.

We all have those things that make us self conscious.

“Hey, girl, Heeeey.”

We hear it. We do. You may think we don’t at all as you’re driving down the road revving your engine alongside, as we are torturing ourselves. And most of the women I run with, we are not looking to lose weight or just get fit, we are looking to run fast. Possibly as fast as your ’96 Honda Civic with the rims will take you down the road as you get pulled over by a cop. Impressive, really. I mean give me a minute while I fan myself from the shock. Please don’t let me faint.

Do you know how hard it is to convey sarcasm? Well, I’m inventing a font that when you read it, you know it is sarcasm.

Runner girls have one major thing going for them, along with everything else, obviously: We have great legs. But it isn’t something we normally think of. And no I am not talking about the skinny, thin, pencil legs, we got muscle. We got booty. We got bounce.

That felt weird.

we work hard for those legs. 

even on bikes. 

guys have good legs too i guess. 

We aren’t really taught to love our legs. We are taught we need the thigh gap, we need the thin- almost- non -existent –from- the- side legs.  We are taught we need to be more aware of our hair and our looks from the waist up. Well ya know what? When I am running repeat miles, or a long tempo, or even just a regular old run, I don’t know if I quite care what my hair is doing. As long as it isn’t in my face, I’m good.

So look at my legs. It’s ok that I have sweat dripping from my brow, and my shirt doesn’t match my shorts, and my socks… well I’m not wearing any.

My legs have put in the miles. They’ve put in the work, and the rest of me has benefitted from just tagging along.

Runners. Yes, we’re weird and quirky. And some are self-conscious and scared.

But dayum, we got good legs.