A Day in the Life of a Career Klutz

So since the last post gave you a little taste of my less than stellar flirting escapades with the opposite sex, here is just a little example of what happens when I actually try and interact with them: Let me take you back in time, when it wasn't dark at 4 p.m. and when I could run without a down parka...

Just pop up, don’t even flinch, maybe they didn’t see you.

Flash mental inventory:

Teeth? All there

Nose? Still button-y.

Shorts? Still covering my booty.

All right, I’m fine, no big deal. See, I’m a total bamf. I laugh at you Arnold and your tiny muscles (said in a Austrian accent).

Commence mental victory dance party. (Oppa Gangnam style!)

I don’t remember this shirt having red stripes, hmm, cute.

Boy, the air is really stinging tonight. Like did they spray rubbing alcohol into the atmosphere or something?

Whoa that’s blood. And gravel. And…

Honestly, I’m a munchkin-sized harbinger of klutzy destruction. Throw in a side of extreme gender-induced social awkwardness and it’s like Apocalypse Now! Friends, beware; you might be risking your well-being for the pleasure of my company.

I’ll understand if you value your life and limbs too much…but I’m pretty awesome…just something to think about…I might have cookies…

I was training for my first half marathon, one of my fitness goals. Before becoming a fit, spunky gym-bunny (or rat, depending on the day) I’d talk about how crazy endurance athletes were, how nuts recreational runners were, how they had too much time on their hands, how they were killing their joints and how I never had any desire to do anything like that. Because I couldn’t even run half a mile, the idea of running 13.1 or 26.2 miles was so far out of my realm of possibilities that I decided anyone who wanted to run that far was just fifty shades of crazy!

Well, Christian Grey must be wandering around somewhere because not only have I successfully run a half-marathon but I'm also getting ready to start training for my second (Nike in DC baby!) and am planning for a fall full. And my ultimate fitness goal is to run an ultra marathon. (Scott Jurek=my idol!)

But as much as I love running  (I say now, safely in fuzzy socks) I’ve found that I train better and run faster when I have some homies rolling with me!

So I began joining running clubs, groups, teams and random meet-ups over the past couple of months. Yes, I want to be a better runner but also I’m really trying to meet some different people and make new friends.

Ehem, male friends.

Yes, I’m that girl. Don’t judge. OK, you can a little bit.

(If boys can buy puppies to attract girls, this is nothing.)

So I run with a particular group every week and I’ve gotten to know the other runners but am still really shy and get all goofy if I’m left to my own devices around them. Most of the other girls in the group don’t run as fast as I do (zoom, zoom, zoom, I’m the Flash!) so it’s usually just me and the boys. One  o night we were all running and I felt super girly and confident, thanks to a flirty new running outfit (love Lululemon) and a new pair of running shoes.

I’m zipping along with this guy and we’re having a great conversation. It was flowing so naturally, there were no awkward did-you-know facts or embarrassing anecdotes (an unfortunate habit) and I felt totally at ease. But this was because I was so focused on checking my running form and not running in front of a bus. I was so focused in fact that I was totally oblivious that he was FLIRTING WITH ME!

That is until we paused at a water stop and one of the other girls in our posse decided to take it upon herself to explain how hardcore he was flirting me. That he was practically sprinting to keep up with me, that he’d asked where I was when I was running late and that he’d been curious if I was single.

Thanks so much, girlfriend.

Enter spastic Cecelia:  I’m breathing too loud. Don’t run into him! Stop laughing, you sound like Janice from Friends!

It’s only four more miles, hold it together and then you can escape. Don't throw up.

Stop looking at him!

 Right, Left. Good. See? It’s not that bad, chill out.

SPLAT!

I face planted on the sidewalk. I was so flustered by the “flirting” that I neglected my form, the sidewalk and the fact that gravity and I are at odds with one another. I had gravel shoved in my elbows, palms and knees. Blood dripping from the hands and knees, I popped up, brushed it off and kept running. I wanted to die from embarrassment so I pretty much sprinted those last four.

Geez, Louise. I’m hopeless.