I read this blog and it made me laugh thinking about a runners mentality, the like of which I encounter regularly at work. You guys certainly are a unique bunch!
Originally posted on I'll drink to that:
This Sunday is the big 10k race in my hometown. It usually draws about 13,000 people from every level of ability…including the professional and elite runners. For those people a 10k race looks effortless. You know who I’m talking about – the Kenyans and Ethiopians – pros from everywhere who are all just legs and lungs. They probably have 4% body fat and the lung capacity of dolphins and they run like gazelles.
Those people must be born with running genes; I’m no geneticist but I know for certain that I don’t have those genes. Even if I trained and trained and trained I still would never be an elite runner. Genetics aside, the closest I’ll ever get to those guys is during race package pick up and here are the reasons why:
- I am fit, but I will never be ’elite runner thin’ unless I get lost in the desert for weeks or end up in prison; my body simply likes to have a little insulation.
- My body type is not built for speed and agility, it’s built for strength and stamina…when I feel like it. I can open a jar of peanut butter when no else can and swing a hammer pretty good, but I’m no gazelle.
- I love food too much. I’m not one of those people who eats only to survive. I’m like a labrador retriever – I’ll eat because it’s there – and probably like a lab would eat myself to death.
- Depriving me of food is ugly. A friend coined this “hangry” - being hungry makes people angry – or “hangry”. My husband and I
didtried the South Beach diet once and I was such a bitch. I lost 9lbs in 2 weeks but I was pretty grumpy. But how can anyone be happy when you can’t eat a ham sandwich and have a beer? Did I mention that I love a good sandwich?
- I like wine. I’m not certain, but I’m pretty sure that elite runners don’t drink like I do. On the upside – I bet my liver is way tougher than theirs.
- I don’t like myself enough to spend hours and hours with only me and my thoughts in order to train like they do. I wonder what they think about while they train? Intervals? Race pace vs training pace? Egg white omelettes? My mind is too random and completely undisciplined. Mmmm…I like steak. I wonder if those gorgeous black wedges are still on sale? I should be working. Something smells like BBQ. We should have a BBQ this weekend. My ass feels jiggly. My feet hurt. Shit – I want to stop. Mmmmm…steak.
I do love to run, but not so much that I would give up my wine and prime rib to live up to my full running potential. Food and drink is my reward for exercise.