Women love to talk. Duh.
Talking and long distance running go hand in hand like dipping a spoon into peanut butter then it into the bag of chocolate chips. (C’mon, you’ve done that before, right?….right?) There are topics that come up over and over again and we never seem to tire of them. Like food. Cooking, recipes, places to eat, drink, how many calories are in something, how we don’t care how many calories are in something. Today specifics included salted vs. unsalted butter. Cake vs. pie. White chocolate vs. milk chocolate. For the record, I’m a salted butter, white chocolate, pie kinda gal. These topic were discussed between mile 4 and 6 today.
When we realize we are miles away from salt, chocolate, desserts or food of any kind, we switch up.
The middle miles are often filled with kid subjects, (insert endless list here), husband “wish-they-would-have-just” topics, things that we think are outrageously too expensive and stories about stupid stuff we do that turn out to be amazing moments of destiny being shown to us in all their glory. (Like locking yourself out of the car only to find out that walking the kids home from school instead was a grand adventure and you ran into that one gal you met at that one party and she knew your sister who is coming to visit tomorrow. Wow, cool.)
Then you talk about running, speed work, distance, hills, races, gadgets, gu.
And there is always something to be learned. Today I learned that sex is an acceptable substitute for stretching after a long run. Nice.
At the end, it comes back around to food. But not in the best-recipe-for-artichoke-dip way, in the poop way. This could be me, so correct me (or maybe not) if y’all don’t talk about when your body needs to do what it needs to do. I’m lucky. My body alarm clock goes off early and I’m “dropping the kids off at the pool” at 5:37am sharp (one of my favorite SBS quips). However, now that I’m doing my long runs at an even earlier time, my body ain’t ready at 4:30am. I now carry toilet paper after a mid-neighborhood “incident” in which I was thankful for the darkness and a nearby handful of maple leaves.
So, that’s what we talk about. What do you GUYS talk about? And I mean guys, as in boys, dudes, the men folk.
When I try to imagine guys chatting it up on a run, for some reason, I imagine them being 25 years old not the, ahem, slightly older version (aka my age). I imagine them talking about how much they drank the night before, giving each other shit for not brushing their teeth, blaming farts on each other and guessing the bra size of women who pass them on the trail. For those of you who do not know my husband, he is not at all like my imaginary characters, but I can’t quite hear them talking about their 7-year-old daughter’s ballet recital, how they wish they had more time to do chores around the house or how they felt badly because their wife was upset the other night and they forgot about “active listening”.
I could see how, if a guy was reading this, how they might get upset at me spewing these stereotypes. I would have a fit if you said all we talked about was being on our periods. Which we do sometimes, but that’s beside the point.
So, help me out. What the hell are you guys talking about?