"Proper" running form is keeping your arms at approximately a 90 degree angle and keeping them parallel to your body when running (aka not crossing them across your body.) Now this is a no brainer for me, as there are things in the front of my body *ahem* that are hard to move my arms across. Regardless, we had to focus on pumping our arms like insane robots. To add to this image, we weren't running particularly fast, and so we just looked like sad, sad individuals who were trying to get people to believe they were runners, but really not so much.
We ran about 4 miles this evening, and the weather was nice enough for it, considering how cold it was on the first day of practice. The puddles weren't even so bad! While running these four miles, I can imagine myself as one of those "runner girls." You know the girls I'm talking, with the long hair bobbing in pony tails as their ridiculous long legs stretch across massive spaces while still maintaining a conversation and a smile. Realistically, I am beet red, looking like I'm moving in slow motion, and hoping to all things holy that I'm not plagued by the afflictions of my senior year of college when I got to take a vomiting tour of the most beautiful campus in the country.
As Grande and I were stretching, we both realized that while everyone else in the fifty person crowd could stretch easily, she and I were falling down and knocking others over. As I was heaving, I was considering why running a marathon seemed like the dumbest idea in the world. I'm NOT a runner. Why didn't I just join a rugby team? How in God's name was I going to run this at a normal pace? What if my nipples chafe? As I heaved and surveyed my so-not-a-runners' body, the questions kept coming.
Though I'm psyched about this marathon, I have to wonder, "What is wrong with me?"
