At Dinner the other night with BUSINESS contacts…
Being introduced to the VICE PRESIDENT of something…
“This is Amy, she wrote that sex and running post…”
“Oh yeah, Fifty Shades of Running! I loved that post!”
Well, gee, that’s just precious. I am now known as the Blogger That Wrote That Sex Post.
For god sakes, I can’t be the only one that thinks about sex while running, can I?
I mean, half the country apparently is all fired up about Fifty Shades of Grey, the Today show is even talking about a “Fifty Shades Baby Boom”.
Prepare for a Fifty Shades of Rant Sidebar
For the love of all that is literary and holy, do not read Fifty Shades of Grey. First, it’s FAN fiction based on Twilight. TWILIGHT. Twilight has to be one of the worst bits of written fluff ever to masquerade as “Young Adult Fiction” as all it illustrates is that a young women will throw themselves off cliffs if they don’t have a man in their lives and the consequence of sex is death. Second, Fifty Shades is as poorly written as Twilight. Third, OMG the sex gets boring. Fourth, OMG really? A 27 year old foster kid reject becomes a billionaire, meets, courts, woos, gets obsessed with, marries and knocks up a virtual teenager? Great, now you just created yet another impossible to achieve romance standard that normal people will never live up to. Fifth, just because you like to get spicy in the bedroom DOES NOT mean you are mentally ill. Six, for god sakes when will women stop believing that they can change the men in their lives. I know many a fag hag who learned the hard way that you cannot turn your best friend straight just because you are secretly in love with them. Seven, oh wait, this is a running blog not a blog to rant about the impossible stereotypes that bad fiction have us believe is possible (you should hear my rant on porn, but alas, that is another post).
Anyway… sex while running. I can’t possibly be the only person who thinks about sex while running, can I? Maybe I’m the only one who openly admits it. I know, I know, fantasizing about sex is in the realm of “GUYS” and not a polite thing for a woman to admit to. But there comes a moment sometimes when you’re out running and the endorphins are popping about and you are hyper aware of what your body is doing. Each breath is big and real. You can feel your hips moving in their sockets, gravity pulling down at you, your legs pushing your forward, your clothes against your body. And it’s in that kind of moment that you can love and appreciate what your body can do, regardless of its size and shape. And Oh c’mon now, duh, you think about sex right?? OK, maybe it is just me, and maybe I just need to get laid.
