I’ve always been a lover of music. I’ve played the piano all my life, and the clarinet in high school. Sang in Gilbert and Sullivan musicals. There is almost always some music playing in the house somewhere.
And I can’t run without my music either. I’ve tried. Every so often, I think that I’ll listen to the birds chirping their early morning songs while I run. But that doesn’t get me moving up the hills like some heavy duty hip hop does. I need my tunes.
I love a varied playlist – I’m eclectic all the way. I’ll go from Adele to ZZ Top in a heartbeat, with John Denver thrown in for some wholesomeness. I’m hoping his easy going lyrics balance with Eminem shouting and swearing at me in the early morning.
(Speaking of Eminem – one day last year I was running at the park, listening to him curse through Till I Collapse. I ran past a nun in her habit who was saying her rosary. I wondered if we canceled each other out.)
Music motivates me. It makes me go faster. It helps me up Hilda. It entertains me.
And I sing when I run. I play my air guitar. I bang my air drums. And I love it. I’m sure people driving past me think I’m having a seizure or something. But isn’t it better to be getting some strange looks on the road than sitting at home in front of the boob tube?
This past week I’ve had two of my fastest runs ever. My usual route is 4 miles and I ran it this morning in 44:15. That’s the fastest I’ve ever done! And that includes 4 pretty good hills.
And I have several people to thank for that awesome time –
Pitbull, for telling me to get back in time.
Carly Rae Jepsen, for telling me that she might call me. Maybe.
One Direction, for telling me that I’m beautiful.
Florence and the Machine, for telling me my dog days are over. That I run fast for my mother, father, children, sisters and brothers.
And most of all, Beyonce. Did she tell you? Girls run the world.