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I Hate Running .... Thankyouverymuch!
Marathon Elvis - 06/2008

As a former soccer player, nearly every day of every week for 11 years, I was forced to do laps. It was the old-school way to train for the long-distance running required of the sport. And while I loved soccer, I hated running.

I was good at it, as in I could run a long way without the urge to collapse in a sweaty writhing heap and swear like a trailer trash mama after her man drank the last Budweiser. But you know what? Running is for some people and not for others.

It took me awhile to realize that I was deep in the 'Not For Others' category. I liked the idea of being a runner. No better way to get healthy, clean the ol' tubes, burn fat, stay trim, have energy. I liked the little ear phones, the sweat, the swinging ponytail. I like the idea of running the same way I like the idea of eating fish. I know it's good for me, but it just makes me gag.

So it seems strange then that when the Rock and Roll Marathon rolls around to San Diego every year, I get amped up for it. We walk three blocks from our house and we're smack in the middle of the route. Every year we get up early, fill our thermos full of hot coffee and stroll down to see the international runners whoosh by, all spindly, daddylonglegged and sleek. Then, about an hour later, the fun starts and the real folks start chugging and huffing down the chute.

Marathoners Half-way DoneWe took lots of pictures at the marathon, but the top photo is my favorite. The lady in this picture? (Yes, it's a lady - despite what appears to be a breakfast sausage running wild in her Lycra - you have to look closely.) My hero. If I were fit enough to run a marathon, which I'm not, I'd so totally dress up like Elvis to run it.

I mean seriously, if I'm masochistic enough to pay money to run for 4 hours straight, why not go full bore? It'd be all about the humor. It'd have to. Because what could be funnier than a sweating, cursing, bleeding, incontinent Elvis crawling across the finish line four hours late with her matted ponytail sticking out and her dripping pompadour askew?

Which is why I'll stick with me and Deb walking fast and chatting faster for much, much shorter distances as my exercise of choice.

I'm trading a tight ass for emotional support and mental stability. Hey. It's a deal I can live with.

 

 

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I am a writer and lazy artist who loves travel, architecture and design. Right now, I'm into photography. My fabulous husband (a.k.a. The Varmint) and I are also the principals of a San Diego-based creative agency - and new parents to the divine Baby Mak. Read More >