The Perfect Run

Sphinxes, mermaids, unicorns. We all (I use that word generally) accept these to be myths. Over the years, I have learned to lump the idea of "perfection" in with these fantastical creatures. Perfect job, perfect relationship, perfect body- it just doesn't exist (with the exception of Jennifer Aniston- see previous post). 

This is how I went about my ordinary, mundane, regular life. Until last week, ladies and gentlemen, when yours truly achieved the perfect run. I know what you are thinking, "No way! You? Really?!", or, more colorfully, "Girl, you ain't no Flo-Jo". To which, I say, "It is true." I kid you not- I was there. Some elderly people walking around the indoor track were there, too, but they are inconsequential to the story and its central theme.

I didn't break any records- I didn't even time myself (I never do). What made this run perfect was how I felt. During its entire duration, I was focused on what was working, instead of what wasn't. I couldn't feel myself jiggling like some sort of gelatinous version of the Michelin Man. Or rather, I could, but somehow I didn't care. I wasn't a jello mold, I was a lava lamp -all fluid, purposeful movements.  I was gliding around the track like a dementor hellbent on Sirius Black. 

The best part was that I didn't have to think about anything. My limbs moved as though they were being articulated by an invisible puppeteer who was better at knowing how to run than I am. My legs lifted, almost of their own accord, to the perfect height again and again- all without my conscious mental engagement. Air filtered in and out of my lungs without the  despairing gasps normally present when I run. It was sublime. I let myself finish half a mile like it was the end of the Marine Corps Marathon, arms flailing wildly like the flippers of a panicked dolphin caught in a net. This phenomena has only happened to me once before-when I was in high school. I had only ever run two miles at a time before this point, but under the influences of a runner's high, was able to knock out six miles seemingly without strain. 

I fear I will never know the secret recipe for runs of this caliber-although I suspect that a playlist featuring an amalgam of Missy Elliot's early 2000s hits may have had a hand in it. All I can do is hope that it won't be the last time I am able to reach this upper echelon of exercise. It was, in a word, exquisite. 

I need an adult!

This entry was inspired by Kate Hudson's stomach. I've encountered a lot of  Fabletics advertising lately, and if you have seen these ads, you will know what I am talking about. Every perfectly defined abdominal muscle sits in taught, perky, judgement of my bad eating habits. The half a quart of mint chocolate chip ice cream eaten in the darkness of my kitchen at midnight that I thought no one would find out about? Kate Hudson's stomach knows about it. Kate Hudson's stomach sees all. (I'm also a huge fan of her athletic line-they are really cute, affordable, and made with well considered materials, but I digress.)

I was recently reading an article focused specifically on losing belly fat. It had all of the usual tips- exercise using different forms of cardio, cut out drinking alcohol, keep sweets and bad snacks out of the house, plan meals ahead to avoid falling into the throes of desperate food shoveling,  if you cannot pronounce it; don't eat it, eat regularly, stay hydrated, avoid refined carbohydrates in excess, and being generally aware of what choices you make throughout the day, etcetera. These are all rules I have long lived by, so I was about to chalk this read up to another comprehensive, well written- albeit somewhat trite (to those of us who constantly research this sort of thing)- article on fitness and health, when I read the ending cumulative paragraph beneath the subheading "Wake Up!!". 

First of all- two exclamation marks? You have my attention. I was delighted to find that this paragraph offers a fresh perspective on weight loss and health in general. The article asserts that the majority of us are less healthy than we were as children. The author points out that as adults, we are most likely less active and less regimented about our eating habits than we were as children. 

"When you were little, you only ate when you were fed- at meal times. You weren’t allowed to snack whenever you felt like it. You ate the healthy meal that was made for you, and you were told you couldn’t eat the unhealthy stuff that you begged for. And you went outside and had playtime. A lot of playtime."-Idealbite.com   (I would like to directly cite the article, but it contains no information about the author, or publication.)

Many people gain a significant amount of weight during their first stint outside of the family home- i.e. "freshman 15". This is because they are suddenly out of their routine and making 100% of their nutritional choices. If my past twenty-four years of life have taught me anything it is that we, as a majority, will NOT make the right decisions for our well being- even when presented with facts and supporting information. It is just too easy to consistently abuse our own freedoms, and consequently, our bodies. 

The article's novel take on personal choices sparked the personal realization that we need to be our own adults. This sounds like a simple awareness to arrive at, but it becomes more complex in its application. We let ourselves off too easily, too often. We've become our own "fun uncle" or, in my case, "lackadaisical teenage babysitter". We allow ourselves to eat too many sweets, skip our vegetables, and continually stay up past our bedtimes.  It's high time we grow up and be a "big kid" about our personal choices.

Now, that's enough time on the computer- go play outside.