Beating the Mindf*ck Since 1993

So Nitmos' post the other day got me thinking (I know, NITMOS got me THINKING? Wha? How? Is that even possible?!) about Mindf*ck (MF). More specifically, about how often I do (or don't, depending) let this randy fool have his way with my running. Like a horny 17-year old boy that just won't take no for an answer, convincing you that if you really loved him you would just let him do it, Mindf*ck weasels his way into your pants--er, head and makes you succomb to his smooth caresses. And before you know it, you are wallowing in the guilt of:

a) not pushing yourself to achieve what you know could have, whether time or distance ("I'm just not that fast/I just can't run that far")
b) cutting a run short, just because you were "tired" ("I'm too tired to do 8 miles; I'll just do 5")
c) skipping a run entirely ("eh, I'll do it tomorrow...")
d) skipping a week (or God Forbid more) of runinng...and you aren't injured..or doing any other cross-training sport ("I think I need a week off from exercise")
e) quitting during a race ("I just can't run anymore...")
f) all of the above ("I'm just not a runner" or "I "don't like" running")

Last week, was kind of a toss-up for old Mindf*ck and me. On Tuesday, he got to second base with my morning run, inflicting a case of SRS and cutting it short. Oh, but Tuesday evening I claimed an "early curfew" and held him at bay to finish those 3 cheated miles. Take that MF! No love for you tonight, beyotch!

Then on Thursday (for spousal harmony reasons) hubs and I both ran again at the inside track. I planned to do about 20 or 30 minutes...and then, 6 minutes (that's 7 already-boring laps) into my run, the iPod ran out of juice. Whoa, running inside is barely tolerable at best (and that's giving it a LOT of credit), and that's with the assumption of constant iPod music being pumped into my frontal lobes in order to sedate me into staying on the track. But running inside (35 or more laps) sans music? Uh oh. No dice. However, I quickly realized that this is JUST what Mindf*ck wanted. He was buttering me up with cheap wine, hoping to get me drunk enough to agree to bump uglies with him later. Realizing this, I knew I could not give in so easily. If he expected to get this run to strip, he was going to have to work harder than that. A LOT harder (nudge, nudge, wink, wink).

So when at 20 minutes I had to start dodging and weaving through the S-L-O-W mom-walkers going two-and three-abreast, I again considered nuzzling up with Mindf*ck. Hey, I did my 20 minutes, I am not a complete slug; maybe MF deserves a little kiss? But when I felt MF's fingers circling my waist, pulling me tight, tugging at my shorts...oh no, this fool ain't deflowering me! So I slapped that cad in the face and kept on running. For 40 minutes. 40:39 to be exact. And then I smiled over at old Mindf*ck and went home with my husband.

After this stunning Thursday victory over him, I couldn't believe when I saw MF skulking around the parking lot at the trail on Saturday morning. I was up for my first-ever 16 miler; he couldn't possibly think I would let him touch me again after the affront two days prior?! And on this important day in my training?! He started jogging slowly behind me, but I was just feeling to good to let him catch up and start sweet-talking me. I chugged along, enjoying the trail and waving at all my fellow runners.

By miles 10-11, which I managed to run at 8:35 pace, he was nowhere to be seen, so I guessed he had given up on me and gone home to get friendly with his hand instead. Imagine my surprise when I rounded the bend at mile 14 and there he stood, off to the side in the bushes, wearing only his Burberry raincoat....(he knows how to dress, I'll give him that)...but, wait, there aren't any rainclouds? Then *BAM!* he opened that raincoat and showed me his full glory. Shocked, I stopped to walk. I tried not to look but couldn't avert my eyes. He crept closer....then my favorite Blackeyed Peas running song came on the iPod and it broke the trance. I shook my head, got my wits about me, decided that I was not going to be MF's next Penthouse "It Happened To Me" story and picked up the pace again to finish out my run. As I ran away, I looked over my shoulder and saw him standing there alone, raincoat drooping, stunned look on his face. He looked so forlorn and lonely. I laughed, waved, and ran on home. Run tally: 16 miles in 2:49 (including water refill stop).


I've been running since I was a sophomore in high school in 1993: 16 years. There have been ups and downs; good years and bad years; high-mileage years and low-mileage years; fast years and slow years. I may have made out with MF here or there over the years, but I'm still here and still running....so on the days I feel weak and tempted by his smooth talking ways and hansome facade, I'll just remember that no matter how good it feels at the time, there is always the chance that Mindf*ck will pass on some incurable running STD that will sideline me for good. And I'll keep my shorts on, knees pumping, and feet moving.