by Madeline Iva
This morning I’m slogging through 3.5 miles at a Turkey Trot. I try to start as far in the back as I can, but it’s a given that I will still be passed by:
- Moms or dads with a baby jogger (bonus points for decorative turkey hats).
- Dads running with pre-pubescent daughters, still skittish about running a whole race. Dads will say reassuring words: pace yourself Ashley, just take it slow. Daughters eventually take off like rabbits.
- People who look out of shape but aren’t.
- People who are walking
Yep. I’m the world’s slowest jogger. So why do I put myself through this? It’s bright out and still early. I’m squinting despite sunglasses and shivering despite layers of exercise clothing.
I do it, because it’s so easy to bring a few cans to donate to people who need food. I like seeing turkeys giving high fives to kids vs. on a platter, ready to eat. And I do this because during the race I live in my body.
I feel the surge and slump of adrenaline. I feel the heft of all my weight as I pull it through time and space. My lungs are burning, my tendons protesting, etc. I’m in the here and now, awake and alive.
It’s good to really be aware of our bodies. How much time do you spend in your head, ignoring everything else? 99% of the time I’m in my head. I’d like it to be more like 70%.
There is a shining beacon of humanity during the race. We turn down the old country road, go past the water stop, and then start uphill in the new-but-boring subdivision. The road begins to undulate up and down as we reach the people who every year make their driveway a mimosa station for the runners. We’re greeted with good cheer and an offer of liquid sunshine in a dixie cup. Everyone perks up for that last mile. I love those guys.
Which brings us to food. It’s good to run and burn calories before indulging. (I’m looking at you, cherry pie.) Everything in moderation, Aristotle said–except love. I have to love my body more, people, which ultimately means loving food a little less.
Because food is like sex in my mouth. Jogging along, there are jiggling reminders of all that food sex I had with some chocolate truffles last night. I won’t even talk about the threesome with the buttered toast and jam that happened this morning. Carby sugary food dulls my experience of life. It’s my love-drug of choice.
This love affair has got to stop. Well, not stop, but slow down a little. I want to spend more time indulging in my other senses. I want to cheat on food with some nice lingerie, some sexy underwear, and some sensuous stretching. I want to replace food sex with sex sex.
Yes, my sweetie and I sprawl all over each other on the couch while watching TV. Yes, we spoon every night under the warm covers to fall asleep. This offers me such a profound comfort I cannot even put words to it. On the other hand, how many hours do we spend next to each other on our computers, which might as well be a million miles away?
I’ve been recently cured me of my internet addiction. Just skimming the news and skimming social media. Amazing how many hours there are in the day now. When we were young and poor, we had no TV or internet. We took baths together a lot instead. Bath time is coming back. And after that, hiking? (Maybe–don’t push it.)
My hypothesis is this: the more I live in my body–in a healthy way–natch–the more I will feel love, good will, sexy sparkies and engage with my friends. What do you think? If you had to choose between a snack or sex, which one do you reach for?
We at Lady Smut wish you the Happiest Thanksgiving Day! Come back tomorrow — we’ve got a fun surprise for you. ; >
Madeline Iva writes fantasy and paranormal romance. Her fantasy romance, WICKED APPRENTICE, featuring a magic geek heroine, is available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and through iTunes. Sign up for Madeline Iva news & give aways.