Warrior Girl

Ever since I discovered Wonder Woman as a little girl, I’ve wanted to be a superhero.  Then, in high school and college, I became a huge Buffy the Vampire Slayer fan, and I totally wanted to be that girl.  The one who can kick serious butt while wearing stiletto boots and a skirt.

But there was one little problem to this desire.

I was lazy.

As a little girl, I did gymnastics, and even ran track for a few years.  But once puberty hit, I became way more interested in boys and fashion then I ever would be in sports and sweating.

In high school I was one of the girls who opted to “walk around the track” during gym class to avoid breaking a sweat (or God forbid a nail) during volleyball.  I only owned a pair of sneakers because it was required for said gym class.  I was not a jock.

I really wanted to be strong, fast, a superhero, but I had no desire to actually, physically, do anything strenuous.

Then, in the last few years, I started working out more, and then running, and then, suddenly, in this last year, everything changed.

And on June 28^th of this year, I did something that my inner “stiletto wearing, make-up loving, boy crazy” girlie girl would have told you was ABSOLUTELY NOT EVER going to happen.

I ran the Warrior Dash.

What is the Warrior Dash you ask?  It is a 3 mile “run” through the woods, over obstacles such as 20 foot walls and rope ladders, ending in a mud pit of epic proportions.  Go here for a better idea (including a video of the insanity).

Yeah…I did that!  And I loved every muddy moment of it.  It was taxing, and challenging and exhausting.

It poured that morning, so I was wet, and sweaty, and muddy and gross.

I had bruises and cuts all over.

I have never been so dirty in my entire life.

I can’t wait to do it all over again next year.

Pushing beyond the limits I set for myself years ago felt amazing.  I felt like a butterfly finally pushing out of that cocoon.  There was this feeling of re-birth.  The new me emerging, muddy, and sore, and laughing.

I am an athlete, and I have the medal and the bruises to prove it.

I am Warrior Girl.

Running For Life

Last week I had a realization.  When speaking to someone about team sports, I told them I’d never done any type of sport in school.  Ballet as a toddler, gymnastics until I was ten, and then, nothing.

But then, suddenly, I realized that wasn’t exactly true.  In the sixth grade, I ran track.  That was it, one single solitary year.  That year post childhood and pre-teendom.  The first year I attended a regular American school (i.e. not a bilingual, English as a second language school).  About a year and a half after moving to the United States from Portugal.  For some strange reason, that year I joined the track team.  I don’t remember very much about it, but I remember that I was good at it, and I enjoyed it.  I won a few blue ribbons in the process.  And I had a crush on my coach/gym teacher…all the girls did.

But then I went to junior high, and puberty hit, and girls were mean, and I wanted nothing to do with sports and wanted to be a girlie girl.

And so ended my career in school sports, along with any interest whatsoever in any kind of physical activity.

I owned one pair of sneakers throughout high school because it was required for gym class, most of which I spent “walking around the track” to avoid playing any of the sports.

I owned no sneakers while in college.

My boyfriend when I was 23 bought me a pair of blue Nike’s for my birthday, because I thought they were cute.

Those sneakers lasted me over 10 years, they were used so little.

Sometime in my late 20’s I joined a gym…mostly, I’d hop on an elliptical or attend an aerobics class…sometimes I’d do crunches.

Sometime in my early 30’s I realized I was fat, and needed to do something about it.  Suddenly, physical activity was a must, and I needed to own a pair of sneakers younger than a fourth grader.

But it wasn’t until I was 35 that I re-discovered a love of running I had completely forgotten I’d even ever had until just last week.

Suddenly, I was learning about running gaits, and buying the proper running shoes, and pacing myself, and proper running form.  Suddenly, I was registering for 5ks and challenging myself to go faster, further…push just a little bit harder.

The girl who used to say “I’ll run if someone’s chasing me”, was now chasing that invisible motivator…accomplishment.

Now there is this…

I watch my feet pound the pavement, look up and see the blue sky, inhale, exhale, feel the sweat rivulets down my back…and I smile.  THIS? This is being alive.

The pain, the struggle, the feeling that I may not make it another step, and then pushing through and breaking a barrier to the next hurdle…adding a tenth of a mile…knocking a minute off my time…making it to the top of that hill…there is nothing like it.

I am 36 years old, I am in the best shape of my life, I can do things I never even dreamt I’d want to do, and I am pushing harder and further every day.

I am proud, I am amazed, I am grateful.

I am a runner.

Runner's Pride?

Pretentious: self-important and affected: acting as though more important or special than is warranted, or appearing to have an unrealistically high self-image.

So, it appears, that after a lifetime of avoiding exercise, and specifically of mocking the “sport” of running, I was wrong.

Yep, I said it. I was wrong.

Because it turns out that I love running.

I’m a newbie, can barely handle running 3 miles without stopping to catch a breath at some point, can’t even begin to imagine running much further than that just yet.

But I do love to run. There’s just something inexplicable about the way running makes me feel.

I’d heard of a “runner’s high” but until I began running myself, I had no idea what that meant. I get it now.

Running is the only exercise I can think of that I actually crave. That I miss. That I can spend an entire day looking forward to doing.

I love it.

But again, I’m a newbie. I’m quite sure, therefore, that I’m probably not doing it all “right”. Maybe my form isn’t quite perfect. Maybe my breathing technique needs work. Perhaps I’m wearing he wrong running gear. My pace is too fast, too slow…I’m certain to be breaking some running rules somewhere along the way.

If you’re asking, what rules? What are you talking about? Who cares? Then welcome to my frustration with some “serious runners”.

Because here’s the thing, for the most part, I find the running community to be this wonderful, warm, inviting, friendly bunch.

Since I’ve started running, I’ve made new friends who run and love to talk about running. I meet strangers on the street, running past one another, and a friendly, courteous head nod or smile of acknowledgement is almost always exchanged.

From folks who’ve just started running themselves, to experienced marathoners, I’ve been given advice, encouragement, and congratulations on my progress.

It’s a beautiful thing.

And then there’s the other side.

The pretentious side.

The “I’m a runner and you’re merely a jogger” side.

I’ll be honest, I don’t get the difference, because to me, if you’re going any faster pace than walking, you are running. Jogging, sprinting, whatever…it’s still all running.

When I see things like this:

my blood boils. (By the way, google that company, and you'll find a whole bunch of other ads and stories about this same topic).

When I hear things like “You know you’re a runner when you see someone else run and think to yourself “that’s not running” as I did the other day on my twitter stream, it makes me cranky.

That pretentiousness? That holier than thou attitude? That “my running is better than your running” nonsense? Is there really any need for that? Shouldn’t we be encouraging everyone who’s out there trying to get/be healthy?

When I run past someone who is walking, I don’t think “pffft, that’s not exercise, you should try running”. I think “good for you, being active”.

What is it that makes you so much better than anyone else?

Why is it okay to make someone else feel badly about their efforts? Because they don’t match yours? Well, how would you like Olympic runners to tell you that unless you have a gold medal, you’re not really a runner either?

Where does it stop?

By the way, I have no idea whether I'd be considered a runner or a jogger by "that type" of runner's standards...and I don't care. As far as I'm concerned, I'm not walking...so I'm running.

A little competition is healthy. Racing and trying to have the best time is fine.

But putting someone down because what they consider running is not good enough for you? That’s just unnecessary!

Focus on the pavement in front of you, stop looking around…or you might just trip over something, break an ankle, and then, you wouldn’t be much of a runner, would you?

All The Boys - Run Karina Run

Oh, God has the greatest sense of humor. Can you hear Him laughing from where you sit? Because I can. He’s having a jolly old time right about now, laughing at (okay, with) me.

Let me explain.

When I was in high school, I was not athletic. At all. In fact, the last time I did any sort of sports activity was when I ran track in the 4^th grade. Then puberty hit, and I was all set with sweating. I became a girlie girl. Sports were not for me. By the time high school came around, I was one of those girls in gym class who would walk laps around the gym in order to not have to participate in the volleyball game.

And running? Up until about a year ago I used to say that “I’ll run if someone is chasing me”.

I was not a jock.

Recently, as in, within the last year, I've started running. I love it, I'm addicted, but I'm still pretty much a newbie.

You need to know this, because it'll come into play later.

The other thing you need to know, if you are just tuning in is that I don't date much (ahem, at all), and haven't for a really long time. My last date was quite a while ago, and the date before that date? I don't remember.

Initially this not dating thing was a choice, a decision to work on myself, to take some time for me. And then...well, life, and being in my 30's and living in the suburbs, and not really meeting anyone outside my "circle" (and we won't discuss the disaster that dating INSIDE my circle turned into...nope, we won't).

So, yeah, I don't really date. I've wanted to get back out on the dating scene for a while now, but the pickin's? They are slim.

So, anyway, those are the things you need to know.

And now, begins the comedy portion of this post:

In high school, I met this boy. Let's call him Pretty Boy. Pretty Boy was a sweet kid and we had a “thing”. As far as high school things go, this was of the most innocent and secretive kind. He was friends with another boy I had an on again/off again thing with, and he was a little shy, so, we hung out, but it never really amounted to much of anything.

If I remember correctly, and my memories of high school are hazy, mostly because I’ve blocked a lot of that time in my life out of my memory completely, we discovered our mutual attraction far too close to graduation to really pursue it.

I never saw him again after graduation, and to be honest, I don’t think I ever thought of him again. I pretty much forgot he existed, and I’ll venture to say it was a mutual thing.

Then about a year ago, FaceBook suggested him as a friend. Surprised to recognize both his name and his face, I sent him a message asking if he remembered me. It took him so long to reply that I once again forgot he existed. When he did reply, he apologized for the late response, explaining he was never on FB, but said of course he remembered me. I’d like to tell you that at that point a conversation ensued, but…I believe I responded to that message, but never heard from him again.

As he’d said, he’s never really on FB, and, in all honesty, I once again forgot all about him.

Until this week.

Because this week, after I went running one day, and posted a status with my run stats, I heard from him.

He said “Wow, I’m proud of you, that’s a great run time, I can’t do that well just yet”. Something along those lines.

Randomly.

Out of nowhere.

Unexpected.

And, something inside me said “hmmmmm”.

So, without allowing myself time to hesitate, second guess, and chicken out, I replied to his comment, saying we should go running sometime, I’d love to catch up.

I put it out there, and I walked away.

And later that day I had a private message from him saying he’d love to go running, perhaps this weekend, giving me his number to call him.

I wrote him back, saying this weekend was good, telling him I’d call him “later this week”.

Today is later this week.

I just called him.

The conversation was short, because he was at work, but it was comfortable, easy, fun. We caught up a bit, talked about work, and then he asked "So when do you want to go running?"

We decided on Saturday afternoon.

He said he's really looking forward to catching up.

I said "This should be a lot of fun".

He had to get back to work, we hung up.

I’m out of practice with this dating thing.

I'm a little bit nervous.

I'm a lot bit excited.

I’m well aware this could be non-romantic in all aspects, I’m not pinning a whole lot of hopes on this.

I’m also aware that this has potential. I’m a little “teenage girl” giddy.

Also…God is laughing. Because I? Am going RUNNING on a potential date?

Running?

With a guy.

A guy I haven’t seen in 17 years.

Running.

Yep, God has a wicked sense of humor.

Thank God for that.