Every Runday my alarm goes off before the city is awake. I always lay in bed for about a minute and wonder if I should just sleep in. I can run later. I don't need to go get my ass kicked on a level 10 hill. I don't need to train this hard. I'm not really training for anything. Sleep is an important element of training.
And most Rundays, I tell the inner voice of sense and reason to STFU. I roll out of bed and go. I have run in sleet, rain, and bitterly cold conditions; I ran up hills that made me want to cry.
But I ran.
On Rundays I run because I want to, no one is making me, except me.
I have nothing to prove, I'm not training for anything. I do this for fun, and because, even though they don't know me, I like running with Those People I Don't Know.
Except there was a moment this week when I didn't like Those People. Recently, for the first time since joining Those People I Don't Know at Rogue, I had someone try to belittle my efforts.
Silly boy. Don't you know who I am?
The man in question reminded me of Draco Malfoy. Essentially he represented everything that Harry Potter and Q and Coach Black are not.
He was an arrogant snob. He acted though the fact I have not qualified for Boston made me less of a runner than him. Gosh, what would he have said if I'd admitted my marathon PR is a 4:09? He. might. have. died.
This attractive man sat beside me at a table with his back to me, talking pointedly to everyone except me. The deep frown etched into his face was only lifted when it was replaced by an unnatural smile for a camera. When he could not avoid speaking directly to me, he coated every word with disdain and thinly veiled sarcasm. At some point I realized he was judging me.
Shortly after that I thought, "and he clearly thinks I'm not bright". How fascinating.
Additionally, he made it clear that as one of the "Dead Ass Last" crew, I was unworthy of his time and attention.
I confess: There was a nanosecond where his low opinion of me hurt my feelings. I thought, If I was only (better, a BQ, skinnier, taller, nicer, prettier, more charming...) then he would (like me, respect me, acknowledge me, at least be civil to me).
And then I looked into his unhappy dead eyes and thought, I'm enough. His bad behavior shows far more about him and his lack of (grace, manners, happiness) than it does about me and my lack of (nothing).
Isn't the first rule we teach our children in life is to treat others with respect? How did he miss that one growing up?
Because let's get real, if I was any smarter, better, nicer, or more charming, the world would not be able to handle it. As it is, I am intimidating as all hell.
Draco Malfoy may be an exceptionally gifted wizard who runs a blistering fast marathon and all that rot, but he's an unhappy small man who is missing out on the things life has to offer. My innate happiness must irritate the piss out of him.
I laugh when I get high, and I get high when I run. I smile freely, and I am gracious to those in the Back to Last crew who come back for me when I am Dead Ass Last. I work hard to be better for my own personal satisfaction. I couldn't care less about Draco Malfoy's opinion of me.
I am enough.
~ Respect ~