Thoughts after a 6-mile jog

It's Memorial Day, and I woke up at 7 a.m. I picked Mommy up from work, took her grocery shopping, then ran to the park, did laps around the park, and jogged back. I'm surprised that I was able to run (albeit, with intermittent breaks), what with my having gone back to smoking cloves and all... I definitely think that the inhaler I've been pumping every morning makes up for the damage I'm doing to my lungs. Steroids will do that...

Opera Singer is training for a run. She does it every year, and I'm sure its aim is to collect money for a worthwhile cause, though at the moment I don't recall which disease its seeking to cure. She mentioned a technique for running, wherein you match your gait with your breath and heart rate; I must learn it.

I looked like ass, sans make-up or purrty hair. At least, I think so. My sweat pants fit in that comfortable-but-ill-looking way which emphasizes all of my flaws and none of my good attributes. Yet, there at the park, amidst the gads of fly ladies and gents, I seemed to have made an impression. Maybe it's because I have DDs and no sports bra can really tame em as I'm running, but heads definitely turned.

Men smiled, made small talk, stared. Eyes bugged out. One guy literally drooled when he saw me, though I'm sure that had something to do with the fact that he was out of breath and panting.

And women? Well, it seems that I've mastered the art of making myself a girl's girl. I don't come off as wanting or needing (to be) competition. I'm innocuous. Non-threatening. Women smiled, kindly offered tips to increase my momentum, shared inside jokes about men.

It felt good to do something so right: jogging, playing nice with men and women, biting my tongue from being a complete bitch, putting away my poison-tipped claws...

Okay, now that I think about it, those last two had more to do with a woman I met yesterday at a bbq. They don't really apply to my morning jog.

I'd gone to high school with the woman, though I don't really know her at all. We'd had mutual friends, and what little I summised of her personality was read through the limited experiences I'd had of her actions and attitutdes. Let's call her Shauna...

Shauna's a friend of a very close friend, and though I recall having a bad first impression of her, that was very many years ago, and I figured I could put that all behind me.

But Shauna's one of those people who talks as if she knows. She rushes into assumptions into who you are and what you're about - and I don't like that. I don't particularly like her. I knew it off the bat when I saw her yesterday. There was something about the way she talked to people - no sign of being humble, no self-awareness or self analyzation. She's the kind of woman that knows she's got you pegged, and doesn't take the time to figure herself out because she knows that she's doing the right thing.

So Shauna the know-it-all remembers me from high school and greets me. I return the greeting, and don't correct her when she calls me "Marie." What's the point? If she mentions me in the future, it'll either be to someone who already knows me (so they'll already know my name), or it'll be to someone who doesn't know me at all (and they wouldn't care what my name is anyway).

So she calls me "Marie" and asks how I'm doing, and I say I'm doing well and ask about her. She says she's doing fine, then starts making all of these assumptions, which seem like a conversation, only she's talking to herself while staring at me. "Are you done with college? You must be done with college! It's been years! Right? And I bet you did really well- Oh! I remember! Sura told me that you went to Brooklyn College with her! You two started an organization together, right?.... etc. etc. ..."

My first reaction was to interrupt her rambling by saying, "Actually, I had a baby, got cancer, then was a welfare crack addict for a little while. My addiction's mellowed, thank God! But you know how it is: court dates mess with class schedules."

She would undoubtedly give me a faux-concerned look, at which point I'd say glibly, "No, no. I was joking. Everything but the cancer part was a joke!" At which point, I'd excuse myself to the restroom and leave her hanging.

But, no. Even though I felt the words forming on the tip of my tongue and the full scenario played out in my head, I said none of that. I saw no point in catching an attitude with Know-It-All Shauna.

I also saw no point in correcting her or informing her or clarifying what she thought she knew. I spend too much time analyzing myself, and when I finally come upon a grain of beautiful truth, I don't feel the need to waste it on someone I have no allegiance to.