I consider myself thoroughly feminine. It's important to me to look nice, so I spend a justifiable amount of time every morning pursuing that endeavor. I wear lipstick; I paint my toenails; I color-coordinate my jewelry with my clothing. And although I balk at being labeled "high maintenance", I admit I am as girly as they come.
Friday, January 19, 2007
I'm probably not the kind of girl you'd see walking down the street and think to yourself, "I bet she's a great spitter". But the fact is, at the risk of sounding rather egotistical, I am a terrific spitter.
I haven't always been a talented spitter. Before I started running, I could no more efficiently spit than I could bench press a rhinoceros. Let me just say... the times have changed. Nowadays, I'm a spitting machine. And although I still can't bench press a rhinoceros, I'd have no problem with, say, a small orangutan.
But enough of that silliness... back to the spitting.
I had to learn the tricks of proper spitting, some of which might seem rather obvious, but which I still found myself needing to practice. ("Never spit against the wind" comes to mind. Who knew?!) It took some time to master the projectile techniques of spitting so as to avoid the somewhat embarrassing dribble-down-the-chin look. But once I got it down, it was like I'd been spitting all my life.
I find myself needing to spit about once every mile and really believe it helps me run better, although I can't tell you exactly how. I only spit extra saliva in my mouth rather than water or sports drink. (I tried that once during a 5K race, mis-spit, and ended up swallowing the water and hacking for the next quarter mile. Not pretty.) And although I am rather proud of my spitting abilities, I do make it a point to reserve my spitting for moments when nobody is watching.
To do otherwise just would not be girly.