“You never can tell,” a co-worker said to me the other day.
We were standing at the water cooler engaging in the perfunctory “what did you do last weekend” chatter. I mentioned that I’d run a race of some sort, a 5k or 10k.
“You run?” he asked, a little too incredulously.
“Yeah, I’ve been doing a lot of short races all year to get auto entry into next year’s marathon,” I replied.
“Hmmn…You’re a runner,” he continued, voicing one of those slimy sentences that is neither absolute question nor statement. “It just shows, you never can tell.”
I looked down at my empty water bottle, thinking that the possibility of dying of thirst might be preferable to this tedium.
Now, I’ll be the first to acknowledge that I do not have a physique similar to Kenyan marathon runners, or most American marathon runners, for that matter. Even after training for and running a half marathon, there are not one but two digits in my dress size. But yes, I run. More »