I like to think of myself as a simple girl. I want simple things and I try to live simply. I have never been the type attracted to glitzy clothes or diamonds or flowers. I do own an abundance of running/fitness wear and sweaters, but I think that’s a given for a dedicated runner ('likes to work out often' thus needs lots of workout clothes, and 'works out often' thus is tiny and needs sweaters for warmth). My favorite stone is a sandstone rock and my favorite flower is a dandelion. I think in life people become misguided by TV and other assorted bits of media to believe that they need much more than they really do. I do not need 15 sets of different face washes, lotions, and body spritzers. I do not need a TV (at all). I do not need a new car or new house or a new bra to make me happy. I realized on my Sunday long (6.3 miles, I know it’s not that long, but give me a break I am working up to 100+ mile weeks) run that America is terribly misguided.
I left the house at a decent hour, 8 am, to venture out on whatever interesting experience lie ahead of me for the day. I desperately wanted to run on the trail, but felt skeptical that I would be able to since I knew that it had been snowing for, well for the last week and a half. I coasted down my route to the trail just to see if I could have my cake and eat it too. Turned out that apparently others in the previous few days had similar ideas to mine and a trail on top of the trail was made of packed down, but not iced over, snow. With a massive smile, I set out on my adventure.
Almost immediately, I felt overjoyed to be outside and running. I noticed, with my pleasure, that the sun’s rays were finally warm again and while I ran my black tights soaked up the sun and dispersed the warmth over my chilly quads. Lucky for me, I was wearing a wind breaker with black on it, which was also soaking up the sun and warming me. While my face glowed neon red from the cold wind, my core and legs were nice and comfy. I really hate being cold on a run. I would almost always rather be sweaty and hot than cold, hence I tend to go overboard with my layering. As I ran on the snowy path and felt the sun’s warmth, I couldn’t help noticing that there was no one else out and about. Granted it was 8 am and the day after a week long snow storm, but still... I was out there. I thought about all of the "creature comforts" that we tell ourselves are so important, but really are meaningless. It may seem stupid, but there is so much in our world to appreciate, however, we tend to ignore it or block it out. I really felt grateful that I was outside enjoying nature’s gifts instead of indoors watching TV or playing video games. It was such a beautiful day for a run.
As I kept pressing on, my mind wandered from thoughts about complacency in American culture and disregard for Earth to the value one places on an idea, lifestyle or object. I realized that, personally, I place high value on fitness and exercise, while others place a high value on enjoyment or pleasure, while others place value on comfort and stability, and of course the list goes on and on. I also began to think about how our society places value on being thin (not athletic or physically fit). This societal value permeates all aspects of our lives, so that someone who is overweight and unhappy with their figure gets bombarded with the wrong messages. It’s like yelling at a man who doesn’t know how to hunt for his food, “Go feed yourself, get full!” That would never work. So why do we think saying to "fat" America, “Get thin! Loose weight!” without offering them any options would actually work? There are many “sects” of American culture that follow the health and exercise vein. These people eat real food, have real jobs, and still find time for exercise and make time for eating healthy. Yet mainstream media tends to focus all of it's efforts and marketing on quick fixes and unhealthy practices.
The American “Dream,” has encouraged most Americans to adopt a lifestyle that focuses on individualism and productivity, in a very unhealthy way. Most Americans work ridiculous hours and dedicate their lives to their jobs. When someone decides to have a child they have to “make time to have a family.” This is sad to me. You should not HAVE to make time for your life, you job should co-exist at the very least, with you life's pursuits. People often ask me where I find the time to run and how exactly I have the time to eat healthy while working full time. I often find these kinds of questions ridiculous, because my question is “how do you not?” I often get the argument, “well I have to be at work by 9 am and my commute is an hour. I work till 6 pm, with an hour for lunch and then the hour back home, so when do I exercise?” Again my answer, “how do you not find time to exercise?” If you wake up at 6 am, dress very quickly and get out the door, you easily have an hour to run. Or alternatively you could either run during your lunch and eat while working, or use your lunch to leave early and run when you get home. There is always an excuse. However, if one is motivated enough they will make the time to exercise and to eat healthy. I don’t have a maid or a cook. I wake up very early to make my lunch every day or I make it on Sunday for the week. I find time to cook, clean, do laundry, and walk my dog. I also find time to run or go to the gym every day and my commute can be as much as 2 hours, one way! My point? Anyone, literally anyone, in the world can find time to make their lives healthier.
Yes, all of this came to me on my run, and I haven’t even hit my turnaround point yet. As I weaved through the snow covered trails, dodging rouge branches and leaping over rocks and fell trees, I felt a sense of pride flow over me. I was never an athletic child. I did not play in any kind of organized sports and was pretty terrible in gym class. I did not feel drawn to exercise or eating healthy for much of my adolescence. Though I played basketball, my sophomore and junior year of college, it was more for the comradery than for the actual sport. Unlike most I-totally-love-this-sport-and-want-to-dedicate-my-life-to-this runners, I didn’t even start (real) running until my senior year of college. I was pudgy on a short frame; unhappy and unhealthy. The girl I was was not the girl I wanted to be. So I transferred schools and moved into an apartment with some other people I barely knew. I was lonely and did not know the area well, so I started running along the mountain roads by my apartment. Slowly, this helped me get acquainted with the area and give me a sense of pride for having accomplished something each day. Slowly but surely, I began to really like running. Even though I was in my mom’s old dance spandex pants, cotton t-shirts, and several year old sneakers, I suddenly felt very happy and proud of the fact that I was running. I never felt proud of most of my accomplishments throughout my life. School was always easy for me, and I was one of those people who rarely struggled to complete an assignment or graduate with high marks. I was never particularly challenged in finding and making friends and generally enjoyed my day to day life. I often found work, when I wanted it, relatively quickly and could perform my takss with ease and skill. I felt for a long time like I was stalling; like I was coming up short and without a serious challenge. As running gradually made its way into my life, I found that I had something that made my proud to have completed each day.
When I completed my first 5k, ½ marathon, and first marathon, I was elated. I had seen the challenge, worked hard for my results, and conquered it. However, after each step I found my “itchy trigger fingers” checking the internet for new races, new distances, and new feats. I guess now that is why I am training for a 50 miler and to eventually run a 100 mile race (Western States and some day Badwater). Wow. Seriously, if there was anyone with me on the trail when this thought hit me, they would have been scared out of their wits. I had stopped mid run, skidded down a little hill and whooped. It was like I had broken through a huge barrier, “the wall,” of sorts, only my wall was in my brain, not in my quads or hamstrings or knee caps.
After my joyous moment, I knuckled down and brought in a record time for my last mile home. I then spent the afternoon basking in a pool of sun streaming into my apartment with 6 ice packs secured over both knees, smiling.
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