I don't profess to be deep or philosophical. I am a simple girl and that's fine with me.
Nowhere is this more evident than when I run, and the harder the effort, the less complex the thinking.
Case in point, last week's St. George Painter's Half Marathon.
I want to preface your peek inside my brain by saying I haven't been running all that much lately. I've been working out and breaking a sweat, but running is a very specific activity and no amount of elliptical training will prepare the legs for the hills of this red rock country.
That said, I'm going to allow you a glimpse at mile-by-mile breakdown of the, ahem, profound thoughts that raced through my mind as I raced through the streets of St. George.
Mile 1: Whoa! Slow down stallions. We have a ways to go. And my bra is already chaffing.
Mile 2: I wish I was running the 5K. That's it. I'm a short-distance sufferer from now on. Stupid half-marathon.
Mile 3: I'll bet those 5Kers are enjoying some tasty treats.
Mile 4: I'll bet my kids aren't even dressed yet. How dare they? Don't they know I'm out here killing myself? They're doing some manual labor when I get back.
Mile 5: Wait. How many miles have we done? OK. 666 (the next mile marker). Isn't that the sign of the devil. Hmmm...
Mile 6: Hey, I'm almost halfway! The faster I run, the faster I'm done.
Mile 7: What's that smell?Comment on this story
Mile 8: Who does this guy think I am? His pacer? That's some serious heavy breathing he has going on. Please don't pass out, sir. My CPR certification is expired. Get ahead. Get ahead.
Mile 9: Whoops. I'm the heavy breather.
Mile 10: Passed by a clown? Bad. Passed by three clowns? Super bad. Maybe I should just sit down and have a drink.
Mile 11: Two miles. I run two miles all the time, but not always after 11 previous miles. Shut up, brain.
Mile 12: Oh yeah! Victory mile to the finish, baby. Cheeseburger. Cheeseburger. Cheeseburger.
Mile 13: No way will that heavy-breather guy pass me this close to the finish. Surge.
Mile 13.1: Victorious! Where's that cheeseburger?
Kim Cowart is a wife, mother, 24-Hour Fitness instructor and marathoner who would gladly donate her brain to science if she didn't feel it would do more harm than good.