To clarify, I’m not a runner. If you see me jogging, please kill whatever the fuck is chasing me!
This week, the NYC marathon aired a story that warmed my cockles. A man who collapsed shortly before his goal was carried across the finish line by two perfect strangers. This act of kindness was just what humanity ordered.
Shortly before turning 50, I signed up for a one and done 5K run. The efficient chip in my brain calculated we could cut long walks in half by upping our pace. The lazy side sought more bang for our sagging buck.
Spectators lined the streets of the breast cancer Run for the Cure, showering us with moral support. Their clapping and cheers elevated me from coach to rockstar status. Their enthusiasm transformed my polar bear gait into a long-legged Kenyan’s.
Kindred to samaritans performing a marathon rescue, the crowds encouragement lifted me up and carried me to the finish line. Stuffing my soul with more endorphins than any run could fill.
What I learned that day was 1) I live for the applause, 2) baby, we weren’t born to run, and 3) the power of praise. Because we live in divided times, the following are words of encouragement, and those you can let go.
Yes:
❀ Are you a beaver, because dam.
❀ Inhale tacos, exhale negativity.
❀ You can’t spell beautiful without “Be YOU”
❀ If it feels like an uphill battle, think of the view from the top.
❀ Having a bad day? Know you can carpe diem tomorrow.
No:
❀ Keep your chin(s) up.
❀ You’re smarter than you look.
❀ I bet you were in great shape when you were younger.
❀ That new haircut makes your nose look smaller.
❀ You smell organic.
* Feature photo courtesy of Glasgow Evening Times
JOIN THE SISTERHOOD, Subscribe today! 🍷
