Sex While Running
Yeah, that’s right. I’m going there because that’s how I roll.
Mom, Dad, assorted family members, sisters of St. Dominic, and those under 18, please stop reading right now because it is only going to a) make you blush b) send me to hell c) provide the juice for long silences at the next family reunion.
So I’m out on a 3 mile run. Shouldn’t be too hard right? But today for some reason, I am struggling. Just over a mile to go and every thing is telling me to take the shortcut home or to walk the rest of the way. Fat Girl is screaming “Dear God. Stop the Ride. I wanna get off! I wanna go home!”
Fit Girl is even getting a little condescending patting me on the mental shoulder saying “It’s OK if you want to walk.”
Screw that man! I’m a runner and I’m gonna run!
Like a Running Ninja, I start whipping out every tip and trick and mental weapon tucked in the pockets of my ninja jammies.
Tactic 1: Release the Dory!! I sing “just keep swimming” ala Dory from Finding Nemo in my head over and over and over. It’s rhythmic, I can match foot strikes to the beat and it’s bound to make me smile.
Tactic 2: Open a can of Zen whoopass from ChiRunning. Get into your body. Lean into your run. Watch your breath. Inhale 2 steps. Exhale 3. Inhale. Exhale. In. Ex.
Tactic 47B: Bust a move on Lady Gaga. If you can’t get your mojo going to “Bad Romance” there’s something seriously wrong.
There’s something seriously wrong, because even the Gaga can’t get me going.
The mental weapon of last resort – THE SEX.
I’ve got a mile to go and there’s nothing else to do but distract myself for the next 13 minutes than a steamy sex fantasy. Yeah, that’s right, I think about sex while running.
Sometimes it’s the outlandish campy classics, like “Oh Professor, is there any way I can get extra credit? I really need to pass your class”
Sometimes I’ll focus on someone I met in passing at the guy on the train with the purple tie and the really big feet. Please feel free to leave your own raunchy Big Foot comment.
Sometimes it’s a little risque like that young NYPD beat cop I met a few months ago all young, and fresh and fit. NY’s Finest do come complete with their own handcuffs you know. Just sayin’.
And sometimes, I construct the phantom image of the most perfect man. Tall, educated, creative, powerful, well traveled, with eyes so blue it’s like a tsunami washing through you. He’s a runner too, natch. We’re out on a run through the countryside, racing across a field of wild flowers. He let’s me win, natch, cause he’s just that kind of guy, natch. Congratulatory kiss turns into frisky business which turns into nakedness. (I always fast forward through the getting naked part because no matter how you play it, getting out of a sweaty sports bra is just not sexy and hey, it’s my fantasy right? I can magic the sweaty clothes away like Hermonie in my own private Naughty Harry Potter. Speaking of – Naughty HP Triva Break – The character Oliver Wood was played by Sean Biggerstaff. Get it. Wood is a Biggerstaff.)
Wait, what? Where was I? See what I mean, thinking about the sex even distracted me from my own post, that last mile just flew by! And the cold shower I took when I got home was fantastic.