By everyday standards, I’m not a princess. Sure, I whine a little, but not so I can get my way; I whine because I’m a whiner. And also, I have a boring and lack luster life. Naturally, a little whining will occur when one feels boring and lack luster. Anyhow, despite my whiny tendencies, I am not a princess and do not expect any one to treat me as such. I’m pretty low maintenance, both emotionally and materialistically, and do not care one bit about name brands, fancy shoes diamonds or designer purses. Not being a princess has served me well over the years and in turn, I think it also serves Craig well. I mean, really? Who wants to be married to a princess. Sure, he still has to put up with my whining, but once he figures out once and for all that I’M RIGHT ALL OF THE TIME, the whining will decrease.
I would like to add that Caroline is not a princess, either. I set out from the very beginning to make sure we didn’t go the expected way of girly-girlness and refer to her as a princess. I don’t think there is anything wrong with parents calling their little girls princess, if that’s what floats their boats, but it just didn’t seem like the right fit for our family and lifestyle. I’m not sure if it’s the result of nature or nurture, but Caroline is (and always has been) horrified by the girly, lacy, poufy dressed princess thing. That’s my girl. She won’t turn down a pedicure or a new pair of earrings, but she recoils at the very thought of reading a book about fairies or dressing as one for Halloween. At Christmas, my friend gave Caroline a bag that said, ‘not your average princess’ and that bag actually suits her quite well. She still rules the roost, but not in an average way.
She gets that from me.
So now that we’ve established I’m not a princess, I shall issue this disclaimer: I’m NOT a princess, EXCEPT when it comes to the weather and running.
There, I said it. I’m a weather princess. I can handle the cold; I can (sort of) handle the heat; I cannot handle the wind.
Wind makes me mad. It slows me down. It messes up my hair. It kills my spirit.
If I look out the window and see trees swaying, I do not run outside. I told you, I’m a weather princess.
I’m running a half marathon next Saturday; at this point I’m, at best, semi-prepared for the race, which is how I feel before most races. Along with a few short runs (and lots of group exercise classes) I’ve run three ‘long’ runs in preparation: 8,10 an 12 miles. I know I can cover the distance; I’m just not sure if I can cover the distance more quickly than the last time I ran 13.1 miles. There is nothing I can do now to prepare me further for this race, but still, I wanted to run another 8 miles this morning, you know, to make myself feel better for slacking so much in the training department. My plan was to run on my favorite trail, however, one look out the window coupled with a check of the online weather forecast this morning caused me to immediately rethink my plan.
That’s a no-go.
So, I went to the gym. Because I’m a weather weenie/princess.
I didn’t want to suffer. I didn’t want to work harder. I didn’t want to run the risk of losing it on the Mt. Vernon Trail, prompting me to yell obscenities at wind. For all I knew, I’d probably try to use my fancy Body Combat skills on the wind. I’d look pretty stupid trying to street brawl punch an inanimate object.
The whole time I was driving to the gym, I chastised myself for whimping out. There might be wind on race day, after all. And, like the true weather princess I am, I didn’t listen to my inner voice of reason. A princess of the weather variety simply cannot be bothered by silly things like reason. Instead, I eschewed all reason in favor of my anti-wind stance and worked out in the comfort of my climate controlled, wind resistant gym.
When I left the gym, I was greeted by a wind tunnel in the parking lot. My hair flew about and instead of whining about my messed up hair, I patted myself on the back for sticking to my weather weenie guns and canceling my outdoor run.
What can I say? Sometimes a princess knows what’s best.