Page 54 - Fall 2013 Issue
P. 54

CONFUSES ME By: Julz Pulley
Although I have been running for a while, there’s precious li8le that I am sure of. Back in May, I ran into a friend that I had not seen for months. While catching up, she told me that she was training for a 5K and let me know that she would appreciate my support in the way of a poster and cheering her on. This entailed creaDng said poster and meeDng her at Bu8 Crack o’ Dawn, on a Saturday morning. I was more than happy to oblige. As the race progressed, I could not help but be drawn in by the effusive support that strangers eagerly gave to parDcipants. As folks crossed the finish line on their own steam or with a tow (a compatriot grabs you just before your face breaks your fall), sheer strangers, as well as families & friends, hearDly cheered them on. It occurred to me like a jolt, a proclamaDon from a burning bush, if you will: I Will Do a 5K. If you know me any, at all, you would know how ridiculous this statement is. Well, perhaps “ridiculous” is not the proper term; let’s say ludicrous.
You see, I never have been able to run for more than a minute without feeling like I was wearing knee-highs doused in gasoline & yes, set ablaze. Not one to wait for the scent of charring flesh, I’d throw in the towel, resign to a brisk walk, & ulDmately a soul-saDsfying and abrupt halt. This Dme, I vowed, was going to be different. I am using a popular app, rhymes with Ouch-to-5K, and despite the agony of very punctual, incendiary calves, am meeDng with much success! That success reminds me that this is part of doing my best for myself. But, I have to let you know that I’ve been registering complaints from various of my body parts.
For instance, there is a quarrel between my breasts & my gut (who, due to the shrinkage, now is demanding to be called the diminuDve “Tummy” or, “the arDst formerly known as gut”). Well, Tummy gripes about being double-teamed. My breasts feel betrayed, for having lost their pla$orm, of sorts. I can appreciate both (three?) of their points of view. Once, I tried to chime in on how expensive a really supporDve bra was, not to menDon, a sports bra. I was told to pipe down, or else. Well, I did not pipe down & somehow the very next jog resulted in a black eye, when one of “the girls” managed to jostle out of capDvity. I’ve remained piped down since. Even now, I know they are watching me, as I type. So, I will remain circumspect.

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