To no one’s surprise, I was running with a friend and we were both huffing and puffing, yet still telling stories. Stories of all shapes and sizes and after a couple of emotional stories and a few choked back tears it dawned on me…….I like runners. I like runners for their guttiness and for their honesty.
I like runners because I’m that girl; gritty and honest with my heart right there on my sleeve.
When we’re running hard there’s just no room for bullshit. We tell stories that have weighed on our minds in order to release them. To give them an audience. To get honest feedback and even more honest advise. To set them free and in turn us free.
Running in and of itself is a hard enough act. To share an emotional truth, come clean with ones self for feedback (and to be brave enough to listen to said feedback) is a whole other layer of hard.
Now these are the real bad ass runners that I seek.
The runners who say they’ll be there and are there. Who lick your wounds as well their own. The runners who may veer off, but come back instead of going home. These are the runners I seek and this is why I adore runners.
When you’re doing something as fundamentally tough as running, anything you’re likely to say is going to be the gritty truth. If you can muster extra breathe for words, there won’t be any sugar-coating. And if the words were important enough to say, instead of saving the breathe for the next step, it’s important enough to hear and it’s likely spot on. Often, so true it brings me to tears. Yet, it’s even harder to cry and run. I know this because I’m a crier. Maybe that’s one of my super powers, I can run through tears.
And so my friend and I run on. Brutally honest, brutally cold, and despite the layers for warmth, layers had been removed.
And truthfully, the layers removed were just slowing us down.
Groovy Girls Go…………With a Few Less Layers