We Can’t All #RunLikeAGirl

It’s summertime at the lake.

That means vacationers. There are people everywhere. I hold fairly ambiguous feelings about the humans these days. You just never know what you’re gonna get.

Last week I was out for a run and stopped to respond to a text from my son. A dude passing me said, “Are we gonna run or are we gonna text?”


I like it.

“We’re gonna run, sir.”

You can absolutely come at me with that kind of drill sergeant attitude.

Earlier this week, I was finishing up my run with a little cool down walk and found a large group of vacationers out walking, so I just sort of casually made myself part of their group and joined in their conversation like that is a normal thing to do. They didn’t even question it.

I enjoy people that don’t question questionable behavior.

Unless it’s, like, mean questionable behavior. Because we should all question mean questionable behavior.

You can always come at me with non-mean questionable behavior.

This morning I decided to go for a moderate run. I probably should have run long, but my plan is to get in a two-a-day. So I can feel like a football player. Or whatever. Plus I think it’s important to survive. In this heat. And humidity.

Although, my actions don’t always reflect that desire to survive.

I ran out of water around mile 4 and stopped at a random house to ask them to refill my water bottle for me. They did. They were from New Jersey.

I didn’t know them.

They could have been human traffickers or a family of serial killers. I’m pretty sure those exist.

One of these days I will probably make it onto an episode of 48 Hours: Homicide.

But I had a good feeling about these folks. They had some teenage girls with them and one of them was singing (kind of), so I don’t think they were being trafficked or anything. Seemed safe-ish.

Besides, it was either risk getting drugged by the family of human traffickers or near-certain death from dehydration, as I was miles from home and sure as hell wasn’t gonna drink that lake water.


I mean, it’s pretty, but ew.

It’s now five hours later and I’m still pretty lucid, so I think I made the right call.

Anyway, I figured 8 this morning, then some strength training and another 4 or 5 this evening.

There are also plenty of vacation runners out this time of year.

Tons of them.

And sometimes they are your standard cool runner, like me, that will just kinda start matching your pace and making conversation. Sometimes they are snotty runners. You know the ones that refuse to even acknowledge your existence? Like, your moderate pace, ridiculous smile, and your happy wave means that you’re enjoying the experience a little too much which obviously means you’re not serious about running.

And every now and then, you meet the arrogant, condescending runner that thinks he’s way more fit than you and that you’re just out there to look cute because it’s bathing suit season and you really wanna impress someone.

Met that dude this morning.

He doesn’t know me.

He wasn’t wearing a shirt, which is generally fine because if I were a dude I’d sure as hell be running shirtless in this weather (but with tons of sunscreen). But there was something about his air that said that he would be shirtless even if it were 30 degrees out because the world needs to see what he’s working with.

And I could have probably been impressed were it not for the smirk on his face. And then his tone when he spoke to me.

He was running the opposite direction when I saw him. So, he had to turn around to start running with me. Usually I get kind of excited when people join me for a run.

But then he opened his mouth.

Random shirtless dude in a slightly condescending tone with a complete air of superiority: So, how far we running this morning, little lady?

(Little lady? I’m sorry, little lady? Who are you, John Wayne? Just don’t ever do that. I mean, maybe if you’re, like, 80 you can. Because you’ve probably seen some stuff, so you’ve earned a little condescension. But if you’re within 30 years of my age, just don’t. Ever.)

Like, dude. You don’t know me. Don’t come at me with that mess. This is the kind of stuff my people do for fun.


Me (trying to sound upbeat and not even slightly irritated and also fighting the urge to break into an Eminem rap): Eight miles.

Random shirtless dude as he immediately turns back in the direction he was originally headed: Whoa. Ok. Have a nice day.

So. Much. Satisfaction.

It’s ok, bruh. Not everyone can #runlikeagirl

Maybe I’ll see if he wants to do 4 miles of strength intervals when I head back out later.

I don’t have an actual point here except maybe just be one of the cool runners. At least try to smile when someone says hello to you. If you see me slacking, it’s ok to call me out. But don’t ever underestimate a female runner. Just don’t. Because a lot of us don’t give a good damn what we look like when we run. We just want to be able to do the hard stuff. And also, don’t drug the runner begging you for water. They hella thirsty in this heat.

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