Like a Superhero

“I always loved running… it was something you could do by yourself, and under your own power. You could go in any direction, fast or slow as you wanted, fighting the wind if you felt like it, seeking out new sights just on the strength of your feet and the courage of your lungs.” ~Jesse Owens

At some point during the Interminable Break Up of Hell Fire and Doom, probably after I realized that I needed something else besides dairy products to keep my mind off of wanting to kick the shit out of something (Or someone). I needed something else to help channel my anger so that I didn’t feel so consumed by it at all times. There had been these brief moments where I was somewhere between a rock and a hard place on the emotional spectrum. It was a toss up between really fucking sad and really fucking angry. I must say that if there is one thing I can never be faulted for it would be sharing how I really feel; crazy pissed off and all. So while this was going on, I contemplated writing away the rage but that just turned into me sitting and staring at the computer screen and missing deadlines and writing half assed movie reviews. Then I decided to bake but that took up more time and effort and because the light in my kitchen sucks, I could only bake and photograph my process between the hours of 9 and noon when the sun was at a perfect tilt in the sky so it would properly luminate my mixing technique. So I decided to start running.

Though running would be a very generous way of putting what I do when I strap on sneakers and a sports bra. It starts off at a nice little pace and then gradually turns into this half walk trot type thing and I’m pretty sure if you saw me ‘running’ you would start to place bets as to when exactly I would keel over and die. It’s like this awful hop, step type gait thing that kind of makes me look like an animal that got hit with a BB gun but must. keep. going. But in a half assed kind of way. It’s all rather sad and pathetic but it is my new thing. To half trot my way through 5Ks and weekly trail runs.

A few weeks ago I announced on Twitter that I would be going running again. Because look at me! All athletic and shit! If you’ve ever seen me in real life, I’m tall but wide-ish. And I am probably making myself sound really attractive right now but it is what it is. My athleticism is rather non-existent but with the whole half trot thing, I’ve been busting my ass and activity points are activity points, and it doesn’t matter if you look like a deranged and injured fawn while completing the activity. The wonderful Bill Braine tweeted (I hate that word) back that we would run together. To which I said Yeah, sure! While thinking that it would never happen because I would never and could never run with a person who runs, runs. Like for real runs with proper form while I most likely trail along behind him huffing and puffing like an injured animal. Days later he emailed me to suggest that we run a 5K together and again I said yes in hopes that he would promptly forget or that I could make up some reason to be halfway across the country. Of course despite my apprehension of coming in dead last or embarrassing myself in front of someone I’d met once – in a bar, while drunk – I allowed Bill to woo me with promises that he would run with me and that afterwards there would be brunch and mimosas. Then he mentioned mojitos if I came down the evening before. And I was all sign me the hell up because if you want me to do something offer up alcohol and I will be yours. Again, it is what it is and I have no shame.

Now to effectively put you to sleep I will make a ridiculously long story even longer and completely pointless by saying that we ran. Well Bill ran and I did my half limp thing until the very end when I actually did run and then I felt like throwing up in a church parking lot but I had managed to shave 1:30 off of my 5K time in less than a month. So I was on my runner’s high and in a good mood and feeling rather kick ass if I do say so myself even if I did look like a sweaty, limping, round buffoon who probably had no business running and dreaming of mimosas even though I hate champagne but my, wouldn’t it would be refreshing. But instead of mimosas I had the great fortune of babysitting Bill’s children while he and his wife went out which was so not what I was promised at the start of this. Sorry I should say that he and his wife left their very adorable children with me, a person that Bill had met once before while in a bar but I have a blog where I talk about how much I enjoy wine and they enjoy wine so I probably won’t be some psycho serial killer. I will instead be very normal and discuss why Luke’s father is such an important part to the overall Star Wars saga and perhaps promise a five year old that I will watch the other three movies with him. Because I am an emotional lush who is just so damn nice and a giver that way.

And now that this story has gone nowhere fast I will sum it up in 9 words: This weekend was fantastic, cathartic and all around perfect. The other morning, Bill came bounding down the stairs before our run and asked if I felt like a superhero. I said no and he told me that I should feel like one because I am. And while I remain wary of proclaiming myself in top superhero form, I can say that after five long months, I seem to have a bit of my (relative) bad ass back. And not a moment too soon.