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I run.
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| Article Type: | Brief article |
| Subject: |
Running
(Appreciation) Running (Social aspects) |
| Author: | Baumgarten, Robin |
| Pub Date: | 08/01/2008 |
| Publication: | Name: Sister Namibia Publisher: Sister Namibia Audience: Academic; General Format: Magazine/Journal Subject: Social sciences; Women's issues/gender studies Copyright: COPYRIGHT 2008 Sister Namibia ISSN: 1026-9126 |
| Issue: | Date: August, 2008 Source Volume: 20 Source Issue: 3 |
| Topic: | Event Code: 290 Public affairs |
| Geographic: | Geographic Scope: United States Geographic Code: 1USA United States |
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| Accession Number: | 188293323 |
| Full Text: |
"You don't need to run, baby," bellowed a low tenor
from a passing car. "You look good the way you are," his
companion echoed. "Dumbass," I mumbled to myself as I pumped my legs faster and harder and dashed across Driggs Avenue, leaving them and their ignorance far behind. [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] I started training for my first half marathon just after my thirtieth birthday. Since then, I've developed a theory. Men tend to have two false impressions of my running. One, that it is an open invitation for them to shout their misguided brand of compliment at me. And two, that I am running to transform my body into some media-hyped, air-brushed caricature of woman. They are wrong on both accounts. I run for me. I run to feel strong and fit and powerful. I run to understand what it means to face pain, to struggle through it, and to move beyond it. I run to challenge myself in ways I never thought I could. I run to feel August's heat pound on the back of my neck and to push against the biting January wind. I run for the purples, pinks and oranges of the sun setting behind Manhattan as I cross the Brooklyn Bridge. I run to let go of everything that's been weighing me down and for the chance to begin again. I run to share my thoughts with my best friend and I run to have some time to myself. I run for the butterflies that congress in my stomach before the start of a race and I run for the blood pounding in my ears as I sprint through the finish line. I run for every girl who is afraid to show strength and every boy who is afraid to show weakness. I run because my mother never did and because my father never thought I could. I run because I have to. |
| Gale Copyright: | Copyright 2008 Gale, Cengage Learning. All rights reserved. |
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