Over the past few months, running has become a major theme in my life. No, I’m not running away from my problems (I have dealt with the fact that I am going to die alone head on), and I’m not suffering from a case of the runs (although if you are, I hear Imodium works wonders). I’ve been doing a lot of running because I have been training for a half marathon.
I approached my training with grace, determination, and vigor, but after running 8 miles after drinking 4 Maker’s Marks the previous night and having to order a new IPOD after accidentally sending mine through the wash, I decided that all I really wanted to accomplish were the following 2 things:
1. Not die
2. Not lose a toenail
This past weekend, I flew to Florida for the big race. (And to soak up some rays—the current weather in NY is an abomination and has given me the worst case of SAD I have ever had. Even my ingrown hairs have SAD). It’s funny, most people decide to run a race to challenge themselves, get in shape, and (most importantly) lose weight. HA! I gained 5 pounds the week before the race because I kept saying things like, “Well, I can eat 3000 chips, because I am running 13.1 miles in a few days,” or “I can eat 3 bagels loaded with honey nut schmear because I need to fuel up for my race in a few days.” And other people encourage it 100%. Running a half marathon is ultimately a great way to find excuses to eat disgusting things. Now, I am a fat cow. Diet starts tomorrow, I swear.
I also learned that running is very competitive. People say, “I don’t care about my time, I just want to finish.” LIARS. When you are there, in that sea of people, something happens to you. You look around and suddenly feel compelled to do everything in your power to beat anyone who looks older, fatter, or more disabled. THEY MUST GO DOWN! My friend Mandy recently ran a full marathon and her running partner had a mantra: “Don’t let fatty outrun you.” Not very nice, but I bet she made GREAT time. (Was Mandy the fatty?)
A few years ago my mom ran a marathon, and there was a female little person ahead of her. My mom did everything she could to pass her—she didn’t want someone with such small legs to beat her time. My mom would speed up, then the little person would speed up (let’s call her Ethel—I feel weird when I type “little person”). In the final moments, Ethel and my mom were neck-in-neck, but my mom gathered up all her strength and pulled ahead at the last second. You showed her mom!
My mom ran this one with me too. We stayed together for the first 10 miles, but then I sped up and bolted the last 3.1, both because I just wanted it to be over and because I couldn’t let her beat me. Don’t let oldie outrun you! My time was 2 hrs and 14 minutes, which put me at a 10.3 minute mile. My mom came in about 5 minutes behind me. I showed her! My only regret was at mile 11 when a group of locals set up a keg for the runners, and I didn’t stop for a beer.
Overall, the race was amazing. I didn’t die and I didn’t lose a toenail—although one of them is black and blue, and according to the expert testimony, I think it’ll soon be a goner. I’ll be sure to keep you posted.
Now I’m back in New York and I can’t help but notice that, while my running’s over, the men around me are still going strong…running, it seems, right away from me. I mean they BOLT…as if they were the ones training for a half marathon. Tell me guys, what’s up? Tell me the truth (but be gentle)! I know I have my faults, but I’m not a troll with branch hands. (I’ve looked, continuously and obsessively. Every day I wake up and look in the mirror and the FIRST thing I do is make sure that I still have fingers and that there are no leaves in my bed.) I also carry gum, so unless someone has something to tell me, I don’t think it’s my breath. And I am avid waxer. No branch hands, gum in my purse, avid waxer—that’s the trifecta, isn’t it?
Recently I’ve consulted a few men (amongst them ex-boyfriends) who’ve told me that some men find me intimidating. “You’re good looking, funny, brilliant (well, they didn’t say brilliant exactly, but I knew what they meant). Here’s what I have to say to the intimidated: “Put on your big girl panties and deal with it!” There are plenty of women out there who are funny, charismatic, and good looking. So unless you want a troll with branch hands, get your shit together.
And to my single ladies who are hot, cool, and hilarious, here are a few tips:
1. Keep doing what you are doing.
2. Don’t run a marathon because you will get fat.
3. Get waxed, check for leaves, and chew gum.
Lindsey Gentile is an actor, writer, comedienne, and all-around gal-about-town. Every Thursday, she reports from the front lines of single life in NYC. Check out her website HERE. Need more Big City Siren? No problem.
