Wednesday, June 11, 2008

There She Is... Miss Oblivious

I got chatted up by a very nice, very cute woman at the gym a couple weeks ago. I noticed her while doing my ab reps as she was wiping down the weight equipment with a rag, moving ever so daintily from one machine to the next. She was dressed in an adorable black fleece gym outfit with faux diamond studs splattered across her impossibly small derrière, forming a word that was either a brand name I'm not familiar with or a word I wasn't aware was part of the English language. We passed each other and I forced a courtesy smile, noticing her flawless make up and perfectly coiffed hair. I suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious as my attention was drawn to the sweat-soaked top clinging to my skin, courtesy of half an hour of torture on the stairmaster. My hair was sitting precariously on the top of my head in a hastily-pulled ponytail and my face was sporting nary a lick of makeup to soften its red and splotchy workout complexion. I continued watching her out of the corner of my eye as I went about my workout, dumbfounded that such a perfectly cute woman would set foot in a gym with the likes of people like me. (I admit I also tried to figure out exactly what that said on her rear end, but that required a little more ogling than I felt was prudent.)


No sooner had I turned my attention back to squeezing the life out of my adductors did the woman approach me.

"You come here a lot, don't you?", she asked, and I paused a moment to discern how exactly I wanted to respond. I don't tend to readily trust people who have words on their bums.

Figuring it would be awfully catty of me to hate her just because she was uberly cute, I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

"Oh, I try to come here twice a week to do some cross-training. I'm a runner, so I do most of my workouts on the roads," I responded, surprising even myself with my chipper tone of voice.

"Oh, you run?? I can totally tell... you've got legs of steel!", she exclaimed, pointing down to my exposed gams in all their sweaty glory.

Suddenly, I liked this girl. A lot.

We went about chatting for several minutes. I told her I had run my third marathon the weekend before and I swear for a second, she was about to break into a cheerleader routine. She excitedly told me she'd just signed up to run the local half-marathon in three weeks.

"Okay, this is getting interesting", I thought to myself.

She didn't seem too eager to get back to her task at hand, so I continued talking with her and offering her some advice on the course since I've run it several times. I suggested she do some training on hills since the course is full of them. She retorted she didn't like hills, so she just doesn't run on them. I suggested she do some long runs of at least 9 or 10 miles. She replied she runs on the treadmill for sometimes an hour at a time. When she asked what she should wear, I told her something light-colored that wicks away sweat, since the warm weather will take a toll on her over the course of 13 miles.

That's when she told me she was thinking about wearing her Mrs. Idaho sash and tiara.

I'm sure the time that passed between the words coming out of her mouth and my acknowledging them with a reply was just a matter of milliseconds. But it felt like one of those slow-motion moments, where I could actually feel the skin of my face painfully contorting into an incredulous grimace-- complete with gaping mouth and crossing eyes-- before eventually composing itself enough to hold a straight face.

"That would be... fun," I managed, forcing a smile. But in my mind I instantly pictured a horribly ugly scene of running mile eight of a tough, hilly, hot half-marathon course and being passed by a woman wearing a sash and tiara with her rear end speaking to me.

I'm not running this same race, but I hope for this girl's sake she forgoes the bling. I'd hate to see what might happen to her if she didn't because I think she's probably a very nice person and really wouldn't deserve it.

She thinks I have legs of steel, after all.

18 comments:

Anonymous said...

Angie, you are so funny. I have to tell you, Mrs. Idaho was here at my resort last year. The entire contest is held here. It goes on for like two weeks, it is filmed and then shown at a little later date. They are all so pretty and well, pretty. But believe me NONE of them run. Your legs are by far more attractive and you never ever have to do the dumb things they do in this contest. Jo

Jen said...

You're probably nicer than I am, but I would make sure I went to that race along one of the hilly parts just to see her and that sash crawling up the hill with her tiara sliding down her melting hairdo as the hair spray mixes with the make up running down her face. But that's just me. Take pictures, please.

robison52 said...

UGH! Pray for this girl as she's going to need it for her attempt to run a marathon...she's so utterly clueless that it'll be painful to watch her finish!

Anonymous said...

LOL! You think Miss Idaho Potato Head is waffling between her running shoes and those sassy new sandals she got at Macy's as well? I think if I were going to attempt a hilly half marathon with little or no real training plan (not to mention peaking at only 6 or 7 miles with no hill training), I would want to wear a halloween mask or something so nobody would be able to put a name with the person in the first-aid tent. She could actually make the evening news if she decides to wear the sash and tiara get-up. I can see the headline: Fitness Mashes Fashion :-P

Nitmos said...

That was funny. You really should have encouraged her to wear the tiara and then suggested an impossibly inadequate training plan that would have ended with her tiara rolling down a hill once she passed out.

Ovens2Betsy said...

Next time you see her, just tell her she needs to apply BodyGlide to her temples to avoid that pesky tiara chafe!

chia said...

**resisting the urge to apply more cowbell to her meticulously tousled coif**

Laura said...

Found you through Vanilla's Weekend Splits - that was a hilarious post! Looking forward to reading more :)

RazZDoodle said...

Hilarious! You should have told her that you would recognize Ms. Idaho, but not Mrs. Idaho. I mean, you have to set your pageant watching limits somewhere, don't you?

Great blog!!

Jamoosh said...

Hmmm, the urge to be helpful coupled with the urge to see Little Miss Diamond Butt fail miserably.

What to do; what to do...

P.O.M. said...

"I don't tend to readily trust people who have words on their bums."

Nor do I, nor do I.

Christie said...

That is hilarious. I think you should go to the race anyway just to see her in her ridiculous get up. Take pictures and share. We could all use a good laugh.

See Zanne Run said...

omg. this is literary bloggy genius. you are a riot. great, great story!!!!

Alisa said...

Well, some people do like to run in costumes...look at all the running Elvis'! I just ran my first marathon on June 1st in San Diego and there were plenty of them...many who passed me. I agree that a tiara and sash is a bit much...I probably would have laughed and told her after 13 miles you wouldn't want anything extra getting in your way. During the marathon there were several moments I wanted to throw my water belt as far from my body as possible (but also moments in between water stops I was so happy to have it!).

Charity said...

I haven't stopped laughing!!! Oh to put it so eloquently. Thanks for letting me lurk...love to have you as a Marathon Mommy...

Charity
another one of those crazy 26.2'ers

The Hoyt's said...

You are so funny.. I love reading your blogs....

Lili said...

I know this has already passed, so I wanted to know if you have run into miss Sparkle Pants since the said Half Marathon. Did she live?

Tall Girl Running said...

Hi, Lili--

Thanks for stopping by... pull up a chair and stay awhile!

I did actually try to find the results for her after the race but since I knew very little about her, I can't be certain how she finished. But I like to imagine her crawling across the finish line, strangled by her sash, gasping for breath and crying for her mommy while streaks of melting hairspray and mascara ran down her face.

Oops... was that my out loud voice??