Run like a Zebra

I run with a running group.  Not all the time.  But once or twice a week, we get together and go out for a run.  My friends all run like gazelles.  They are fit and thin and run with grace and confidence.  I am not thin, but I could argue for fit.  I lack the grace and style of their ground-eating strides.  I feel like the ugly duckling compared to their obvious runner-hood.  They are gazelles. (Hmmm... I'm mixing my metaphors!)

I am not a gazelle.  I think I'm more of a zebra.  I trot along in short little strides.  I jiggle in more places than a gazelle.  I do not look elegant or lovely.  I look tired and sweaty, but I get the job done.

In my mind, I am a Kenyan.  I run like my friends, with long, sure strides, looking lovely while I do it.  In my mind, I am 20 years younger, and 30 pounds lighter.  It always surprises me when I see pictures that show me the contrary.

I wish I looked like a gazelle.  I wish I ran like a gazelle.  But I am me.  I am a zebra.  I can trot out there at my 10 minute mile pace, and I know I can do it a lot longer than most of the Navy guys who zip past me on their 1.5 mile PFT.  And I'm happy with me.  I do not have to be faster or better than my friends.  I only have to be faster or better than my goals.  And actually, I do not even have to be faster or better.  I'm looking 40 in the eye.  I'm not going to get much faster or better!  I just have to keep moving.  And I am.  I like the grazing too much not to.   I want to enjoy life.  I'm going to eat my chocolate, guilt free.  And I'm going to put on my go-fasters and run it off.  I'd rather eat chocolate and jog along like a zebra, then give up my chocolate and bound like a gazelle.

So I'm going to buy myself some black and white striped socks and get myself out pounding the pavement, and I'm going to love it.  Because I am a zebra.