Fast Girls Finish First

Firehiwot Dado of Ethiopia wins the 2011 NYC Marathon

 

I caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye.  I could immediately tell she was a runner.  Not just a person who runs to lose weight or to clear her head (although those are always nice perks).  No, she was someone who had speed and had probably run while in college.  She had a purpose to each step and held her body in such a way that seemed comfortable, like she had had that same running form for years.  I watched her as she ran out of my line of sight.  She was fast.

As someone who considers herself a "runner," it's hard not to notice the fast girls that are in my neighborhood.  And to my surprise, there are a few.  There's the one I saw this morning (blonde ponytail, has a small dog she walks in the morning).  There's also a smaller chick with long brown hair who wears it in a braid.  She always runs in the road (which I think is one of the signs to spot a "real" runner).  And then there is a middle-aged woman who wears shortie shorts, but I haven't seen her in a while...maybe she moved.

Yes, I've made some stereotypes here of who a real runner is and the tendencies of such a person.  But these are the girls who get up early to squeeze in their run before the rest of the day happens.  These are the girls who probably eat well and often, but aren't afraid to down a few beers or an ice cream sandwich (like I did this weekend).  They cherish their GPS watch and favorite running bra, but still like to get all fancied up for a night with their special someone.

Sometimes, I consider myself one of them, one of a small group of women who aren't afraid to run in the dark or in the rain (like I did this weekend).  When people casually mention that they run, I have to throw my two cents in and one-up them.  You ran five miles yesterday?  Well, I ran five miles...uphill yesterday.

But sometimes, I am not them.  I lack motivation.  I don't have a set training plan to follow.  I eat one too many cookies even though I know I should stop reaching for them.  Sometimes, I take a week off  for the heck of it because I just don't feel like running. 

When I catch glimpses of these fast runners, I'm jealous.  They always look like they have a purpose to their running, like they know exactly what they are doing and what their mile splits are for each of the five routes they have around town.  I want their resolve to train for something big, for not being afraid to push to the absolute brink of exhaustion, both mentally and physically.  I want their swagger and confidence when they say, "Yeah, I'm a runner" because deep down, they know that running is their gift, their talent that other people just don't have, but something that others crave.

Maybe I'm a fast-girl-in-training.  Maybe I need to focus my mind and create a real training schedule for myself.  Maybe I need to work on my speed so that the next time someone sees me, they think...wow, she's fast.  And I'll feel confident enough to know they are right.