The Evolution of a Runner

Due to both an array of childhood traumas involving races and the imminent threat of blisters, I have never been a runner. I’ve generally kept my cardio to Stairclimbers, but now that I pay my own rent, I don’t have access to them since gym memberships have become a middle class luxury of the past (am I living below the poverty line? I haven’t been able to afford a haircut since May, so yes?). Now I have no choice but to become a runner, and after taking a few spins around the neighborhood, I’ve realized there’s a lot I have to overcome before I make my athletic transformation.

First, I have to get over my fear of being kidnapped. I would say some of my top three fears right now are:

  1. Accidently “liking” an Instagram photo of someone I’m not following.
  2. Getting acid thrown in my face by a jilted ex-boyfriend (I realize how irrational this fear is. I don’t have an ex that cared so much about our break up that they would be compelled to disfigure me so if they couldn’t love me, no one else would. One day, maybe).
  3. Getting kidnapped while on a run.

I’m the perfect candidate! A slow moving target distracted by headphones, plus I fit very comfortably in the trunk of any compact vehicle. This is Los Angeles. There are so many people driving around my neighborhood presumably looking for a little red head to do weird things to. Though, when I lived in New Hampshire I was equally afraid of getting kidnapped during a run because there were so few people driving around. (Just so you know, this all stems from my mother telling me probably fake stories of women she “knew” who were kidnapped while in the process of getting the mail).

Besides having to run to the other side of the street everytime I see that I’m about to pass a large, unmarked van, I also have to worry about what I do with my stuff. I’m not about to buy one of those armbands to put my iPhone in for a hobby I will probably quit within the month. So I’m left holding my iPhone like an idiot . And what about water? I can’t have both my hands full, obviously, so I just go waterless for a half hour? This is insane.

There’s also no incentive to keep running when I get a side cramp. At least on a treadmill you have to keep up or risk being thrown off. With running on the street, I can just tell my legs “NOPE!” and then they walk me back and we eat a burrito bowl.

I don’t know, maybe I’ll keep it up. I ran three times about two and half weeks ago and I feel like I probably look really hot now.

12 thoughts on “The Evolution of a Runner

  1. As a dude, I’m not so much in danger of being kidnapped, but I do feel obligated to keep a close watch on my surroundings while running on my little trail for the females running nearby. It’s something dudes should just do.

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