I do not run. I could end this blog confession right here. It would be short but complete. However, it would not be totally accurate. I do not run except in cases of some urgency or an emergency. I do not run UNLESS I see my nephew about to do something dangerous, not so much now that he is five but when he was a toddler and he simply would not leave the cat alone no matter how many times I told him to, I ran then. I ran trying to get his little face out of the way of the cat’s pointy claws even as she hissed and tried to warn him that no, she did not want him that close AGAIN. I ran, even as my protective, loving Lab/German Shepherd Mix arrived just in time to put herself between him and the cat again and again before any harm could come to him. She herded the two cats away from him, she stood between them, and I ran and either the dog or I arrived before any harm came to him with one or two exceptions that left him crying with a few pinpricks on his face, thankfully nowhere near his eyes. Yet, he did it again and again. That little boy was and is persistent. I adore him anyway or maybe because of it and a thousand other reasons. (Also granted my house is small and these were brief, short instances. Then I asked my nephew’s Dad to put up a baby gate for me to divide my living room and dining room so my nephew was safe from his own curiosity.)
I do not run, however; when I was in my early twenties and Bill, my husband, then boyfriend, had joined the Marine Corps and decided to start running for his training, I ran with him very briefly. In my twenties, I was in excellent physical condition. I was taking judo lessons and kicking ass. Pun intended. (Mostly throwing ass with some floor work involved.) I walked many of the places I went, to the University,mostly because parking was so hard to find but I also really liked walking. It was great exercise.
So when Bill decided to start running, I decided to join him. He was in his early twenties, so excited about joining the Marine Corps and just enthusiastic as HELL. When he told me on one of our first excursions, that it was not a good run unless you “puked” during or after the run, I knew it was not for me. I had NEVER liked to puke, even when I was sick with the flu and actually HAD to. It wasn’t about not puking in front of my boyfriend. Are you kidding? It wasn’t about being embarrassed or getting messy. That had nothing to do with who I was or am although I do not make it a practice to puke in public. It was about hating the physical act of puking. Running was not a great deal of fun for me and puking was not even negotiable. Bill continued running alone and that worked just fine for both of us. (It was also the first of an important series of events involving our life together in the Marine Corps. Jamie, just say no to the stupid shit and keep a sense of humor.)
I am fifty-three now and I do not run. I am not in great physical condition. I do not say that proudly nor do I think this does or should apply to all fifty year olds. I have had some health issues and I am dealing with them the best I can. I do walk and I still love walking. I would run as far and as fast as I could in the case of an emergency, say a zombie apocalypse. I would need the proper motivation. I would run if my nephew or anyone I loved needed me to. I would run if a dog or a cat or any animal needed my help. I MIGHT run if someone I liked needed me. I would depend on who they were. Honestly I would be more likely to stroll to them. If someone I hated, and there are a few but they do exist needed me……. are you FUCKING kidding me? I mean, really?
I would run if an axe murderer was running behind me you know, with an actual axe, but to be honest, not for very long or very far. At some point I would just get physically tired and also PISSED THE FUCK OFF and stop and fight. I have an attitude, so you should not count me out. I have survived shit you would not believe. I am a kind, loving, respectful person but I will stop being nice when it is time. I think an axe murderer trying to kill me qualifies as that time. Yes, I am sure of it.
Also, I would and HAVE run to the bathroom when I needed to pee really, really badly. I drink a lot of water. A LOT of water. What? Water is good for you.
So I don’t run, but there are exceptions to that rule. Do you run?