Run 10K's...Through The Effin Mud

Nah... we don't. Especially black women.

We don't run. Well not unless we have some sort of background in the military or some shit, and even then, we don't like it.

For example...

My older sister came home from the Army in amazing shape back in the day.
She was a cheerleader, but this took her body to a whole other level.
Cut. Ripped. Toned. She was Linda Hamilton in T2, with deltoids and abs not to be fucked with.

She looked nothing short of amazing and attributed her sweet...sweet..back to waking up every morning with her troop and running five miles.

Five. Fucking. Miles.

Running.

Every. Single. Morning.

"No, but it's fun!", she insisted. "We run to cadence so it makes it easier."

Now maybe it's just me, but when men, traditionally, had to make up songs to get through some shit, it wasn't pleasant.

Chain gangs...slavery... You get my meaning.

So there's no amount of sugar filled spoons that was gonna convince me running was a happy experience. I mean, of you look at the faces of people who run, they are, very clearly, the exact fucking opposite of joyful. They look like death.

Death with bad knees.

So no thank you Sis. You ran cuz the govt paid you. You want me to die for free? Nah...I'm good. Mama didn't raise no fool. Well, not more than one, anyway.

Fast forward twenty years. (Ouch. When did I become able to speak in terms of multiple decades?! Stay tuned for my Mid-Life crisis after these important messages.)

My body has decided to turn into Artex the horse in "The Never Ending Story". Wait...let me back up.

I broke my foot, couldn't workout or walk. THEN I caught a painful wart. Couldn't workout or walk. Seven months later....15lbs. Boom. I can't fit my jeans. Double boom. I refuse to buy new clothes. Pow. I retreat into the Swamps of Sadness. I'm gonna be fat...sigh. Let me just give up. Fuck it.

Then, the gays decided this couldn't happen. Not me. The gays. And once you get gay husbands, you are bonded for life.

"It's not cute." No, they didn't actually say this. Instead, they made suggestions...

"Hey...why don't you RUN the Army ten miler with us?!!"

...Run? 10 miles? Even with all the hot Army guys surrounding me, this seemed like a bad idea. I can see me now. On mile 4...looking like a big bag of what-the-fuck while a crew of tight bodied, buzz-cut army dudes cadence their asses right past me, chanting to the top of their man-voices about fat people.

(Oh yes. It's a real cadence.)

Needless to say, I passed. Even though the race would take place well after my foot was healed...still. No thanks.

Then they asked me to go to Hip-Hop dance class. Knowing I am a part of the Rhythm less Nation, I said no thanks.

And this is how weight gain happens. Suddenly, you find yourself saying no to anything active and yes to Hot and Crusty. And Cheeseburgers (but they're SLIDERS). And pizza. And garlic fries from Trader Joes.

...the whole bag.

Now, shit doesn't get real however, till you have to go somewhere requiring "dress up" clothes. Well, at least, that's when shit got real for me.

A healed foot, beautiful shoes...and a closet full of "a size too small". And for someone who was once "ten sizes too big" (and didn't notice till I was in a Vegas bathroom standing next to Playboy Bunnies looking like the "before" photo)...attention must be paid.

So that said, the next time I was asked to participate in something that would facilitate the shrinking of my ass...I had to say "Yes" to it. And that meant I would be participating in the "Down And Dirty" 10k in Philly, this July.

Where (in costume), I'll be running 10k....AND hurling myself over and through military obstacles, water crossings, cargo climbs...

I HAVE to work out. And run. Or go back to "before".

I'm presently on week 3 of training and it's ugly. Its reeeeeal ugly. Up to 4 miles run/walk...with miles to go before I sleep.

So...apparently, Momma did raise a fool. But this fool's body will be incredible...and back in a 6 shortly...or close to it, by race day.

(Oh...and I DID take that Hip-Hop dance class. That entry is coming. It wasn't pretty. Just gonna put that out there.)

COST: $60 (if you register before July 1st.)
BLACK FACTOR: Aside from my group? Ehh. We don't normally run and we DEF don't run in mud...or water. (Hair thing...helllloooo) but there are enough brown folk there to feel comfy. Besides...after the mud, everyone is brown.

WOULD YOU DO IT AGAIN?: Well...let's just see how it goes, shall we?

www.downanddirtymudrun.com