The runners... they're a funny kind of people

I watch as he looks at my ugly shoes that scream RUNNING because no one in their right mind would wear shoes this ugly for fun. He moves up to my Nike capris, that are tight enough to be a second skin, hopefully they at least make me look fast. Finally his eyes meet my bright, red, blotchy face and he says, "Do you run?"  "Yeah" I reply, "just got done".   The grocery store is not my favorite place to talk to people. I usually end up in conversations about how they have been making a recipe for years and I just have to try it.  I am always too much of a sucker to say no and I end up walking away from the conversation with ingredients that I secretly place somewhere they shouldn't be because there is no way I am going to conquer oyster stuffing this year.

But, we're in the checkout line and we're not going anywhere fast.  I grab the latest issue of People and pretend I to be really interested.  "Yeah, I could tell you were a runner" he says,  "I run too."  I would like to take this as a compliment since a "runner" to me has perfect thighs and rock hard abs, but I know it's the ugly shoes and sweaty pigtails that tipped him off.  "Oh really?" I respond.  He's a short man in his late to mid forties.  He has a full head of blond hair that has sort of a Carrie Bradshaw out of control half curl to it.  At first glance I would have guessed him a cyclist, but I guess those looks sometimes go interchangeably.  "It's a beautiful place to run," I finally come up with after I am done assessing my first impressions.  That's always my go to fact about running in Oregon.  It really is a beautiful place to run, the lush green and sea level elevation pretty much make it the perfect place to run, actually.  Never mind that it's drab and grey outside and all my miles lately are done on a treadmill.  "Yes, it is. Even this time of year. Do you compete?" he says.  Compete.  That's always a funny thing with me and running.  I run races. It gives me something to work toward.  Do I compete with others?  Usually not and if I am they usually don't know about it.  Competition with myself in just about everything is inevitable.  "I race" I say, "Usually half marathons, just for fun. You?"  "I am going to Boston this year," He responds proudly.  Boston.  Right. The holy grail of running where the fastest of the fast compete.  Just qualifying for this race is an accomplishment, let alone competing.  "Ha. Yeah you're a runner alright" I say, "Congratulations!"

As I left the grocery store I was proud to be one of those funny running people. I will probably never run in the Boston Marathon, I have never even dreamed of running a sub 3 hour marathon.  I didn't know this man, but I really was proud of his accomplishment.  It made me proud of my sweaty pigtails that said, I just pushed my body to be better.  I was proud of my ugly running shoes that said, I keep going even when I want to stop. I was proud to be a "runner" even without the rock hard abs because the miles and the sweating, the pain, the mental clarity and the feelings of accomplishment... those are amazing.
I just love running.