Lady Liberty

“Just you in that big house?” – It is a question I have received no fewer than half a dozen times since I purchased my first house (2^nd home) last December.  My new neighbors don’t even pretend to hide their surprise that a young, single girl has bought the four bedroom renovated bungalow where she plans to live alone.

My two little neighbors (four and seven) from across the street are even less subtle.  No less than thirty seconds after entering my home in their cute Crewcuts dresses with matching headbands and ballet flats and carrying an honorable mission, as a Girl Scout of America, to make the world a better place and sell me lots of cookies, the younger of the two girls announced, very matter-of-factly, “You don’t have a husband.”  I refrained from my impulse to smartly reply, “Yeah – You don’t either, kid,” but instead I smiled and responded that no, I did not have a husband but instead had a dog.  The sweet, little girls cocked their heads sideways and gave me an expression that clearly said, “Not the same thing.”  …And I believe I’ll take another box of thin mints!

I have often read descriptions of running being a lonely sport.  And it is true that if you do not consistently train with a group, you will find yourself spending many hours alone each week either pounding out miles on a city sidewalk or possibly in the backwoods on a quiet trail.  While I, personally, have never felt lonely on a run, I will say I have always found it to be a little eerie to be out weaving through the city in the pitch dark on a cold morning when everyone else is still inside sleeping in a warm bed and the only sign of life at that hour is a homeless man bundled up in a blanket on a long, wooden bench.

While some complain of a lonely feeling, being a successful runner requires a certain level of independence.  Unless you are Shalane Flanagan or Kara Goucher, you can’t count on waking up each morning to meet your bestie for a run that will push you to your highest potential.  Most likely, if you want to be the fastest runner you can, you will have to wake up to that 5:00 am alarm clock, throw on your sweat-wicking tank and shorts, slip your feet in to some running shoes, and head out the door – all alone – to get in that early morning training run.

Perhaps more important than the self-discipline required to rise early to train, is the need for a desire to independently achieve.  Sure the elites have a “team” of coaches, trainers, sports therapists, etc., but ultimately there is just one member of that team running the race.  There is no drop back and throw to your teammate in the end zone....The runner has to get to the finish line all by herself.

Being an independent twenty-seven year old woman is not always easy (In addition to being made to feel inadequate by a four-year old, I’ve learned how to labor through all sorts of yard work and other house projects), but when I think of my grandmother who had to ask my grandfather “permission” to have her ears pierced or when I think of my own mother who at my age was married and poor with a three year old child and another one on the way, I realize just how lucky I am. 

History and society has certainly played its part in the restriction of women’s freedom, but I cannot deny that sometimes women themselves have been their own greatest captors of that freedom.  In many of us women, it has been ingrained to put the well being of others in front of us – our boyfriends, husbands, children, etc.  On the other hand, most men approach life with some sort of “God given” right to achieve with the support of those around them (mainly mothers, wives, and girlfriends) an assumption.  And as far as outside of the office goes, how many men do you know that gave up golf once their first child was born? 

I think there is no coincidence that I blossomed as a runner shortly after escaping from an oppressive relationship, and while I cannot claim to be the strongest woman I know, I certainly think I am in the running for the most independent.  Even though I have had to fight for it, I know how strongly that independence has helped drive me forward.

This 4^th of July weekend, as I sip beer with my family and watch an American flag flapping in the ocean breeze and fireworks booming overhead lighting up night sky over the quiet beach, my brother-in-law yells out in cheer, “Here’s to not paying the King taxes any more!” 

Yes – Freedom.  To my very core, I am so thankful for it:  Freedom from England.  Freedom from (some) taxes.  Freedom to pursue our own happiness…And the Independence to run like hell.

MCM Training Week Four: 17 Miles  (Yup, that’s 17, not 57, 47, or even 37….As I moved in to pigeon pose during last Monday evening’s yoga class, I felt a slight discomfort in the side of my right foot.  I believe the pain may be a result of unconsciously shifting my stride after developing a HUGE blister on my right big toe after an extremely humid run in Hilton Head (Don’t worry – no more feet pics).  Trying to be conservative, I am resting and icing the foot.  The most important objective is to not further injure the foot.  I am hoping to resume normal training this upcoming week.

This Week’s Beer Choice: Westbrook Brewing Co.’s Bearded Farmer 3 “Thomas”  (Mt. Pleasant, SC) (http://westbrookbrewing.com/beers/all/rotating/bearded-farmer-3-thomas/)

This Saison-style is not my favorite type of beer (way too sweet to drink more than a taste), but it was nice to share a bottle on the beach with the fam.