I've been in training for the Disneyland Half Marathon next weekend. I don't know why I'm doing this race, considering I'm not a real runner and don't even enjoy jogging for exercise, but I got sucked in by family/peer pressure. "It'll be fun!" is what my husband, brother, and sister in law said. I believed them. HAHAHAHA they were lying.
So yesterday I stopped by my local running store to pick up some more of those disgusting energy gel packets - which are like swallowing toothpaste, but actually do deliver that boost of energy I desperately need - and was approached by a young, trim, male employee. It was very obvious that running was his LIFE. He helped me choose some of the less-disgusting gels by telling me which ones he used that morning on his 12-miler. Not a race, not in training, just.... ran 12 miles because he wanted to. WHAT. I bought my gels and hightailed it out of there before they figured out I was just a poseur.
It did get me thinking, though. As much as I don't consider myself an athletic person, I LOVE writing and reading about athletic men. Very few of my heroes in my books are not athletic in some way, be it professionally or for pleasure. And since I'm definitely not what anyone would call "athletic", it's funny to me that that's the type of man I enjoy reading about.
They're just so nice to look at...