I do not wear running shorts. In fact, I do not wear shorts at all. I am a pants person.
When I run, I wear yoga pants which are essentially running pants, weightlifting pants, and whateverthehellIwant pants.
I also wear a poly-cotton blend t-shirt and a poly-cotton hoodie. Slap on some Vibram Five Finger Shoes, and I am good to go.
Running in my neighborhood is only now becoming accessible. I live in urban Nashville. Lots of buildings, abandoned and not, lots of houses, train tracks, etc. When I moved here years ago, I would go to sleep to the sound of gun shots.
In the last two or three years, the neighborhood has been coming up. New businesses are moving in, newer housing is being developed, and folks seem to be less afraid to come out of their houses. We even have runners in the neighborhood!
But, ladies, it doesn’t matter how nice your neighborhood gets, you are still going to be looked at when you run, because you’re hot. You may look a hot-mess, but you are still smokin’ hot.
This morning, I jogged out my back door to take an easy 40 minute run which turned into a .86 mile. Why? Because, like all other female runners, I am hot…apparently.
Apparently, when a woman puts on her running gear, she is this mythical creature that makes men both slow down and crank their necks and torsos all the way around in their seats to take a look at her body in motion.
APPARENTLY, IT COMPELS THEM TO STOP AND PARK THEIR RED SUV TO ENJOY THE WHOLE THING LIVE, BECAUSE WHO KNOWS IF THIS RARE UNICORN OF A HUMAN BEING WILL EVER BE SEEN AGAIN!
Because, maybe, just maybe, the unicorn will suddenly decide to stop running and maybe, I don’t know, suddenly decide to take all of her clothes off and yell out her phone number at the same time!
But, Gentlemen in the Red SUV, I ain’t mad. Yes, you cut my run short, but I had a headache anyway. Yes, you made me uncomfortable, and I ran home checking behind me the whole time to make sure you weren’t creeping behind me. But, again, I ain’t mad.
I am lucky. You were a jerk, but you weren’t a dangerous jerk. So, I am lucky. I made it home, and I wrote this blog post.
But, dear sweet SUV man, here’s what you didn’t know:
Runners are crazy. We live off of adrenaline. We trained in martial arts, self-defense, and carry knives and phones when we run, so even if you had been a jerk, you would not have stood a chance.
But, I am no dumby. I went home just in case.
And, don’t worry your pretty, little head. You didn’t ruin my run today. I’ll go back after I refuel.
And ladies, you don’t let these fools ruin your run either. Run in areas that you know are safe. Run with keys and cell phone in hand. Take your dog and/or other friends.
The world can be a little scary, but it is more scary than dangerous most of the time.
Get some training, and make good choices.
Now, go. Go run confidently, safely, and smartly.