Ladies, now let’s get in formation.
Do you ever run with your hair down? My guess is absolutely, definitely not. Because why would you? It’s uncomfortable, messy, sweaty. But who knew that it was actually the most liberating.
Yesterday morning I was on a “welcome back” run in Central Park — the first time I’ve been to park since the ego-shattering race that shall not be named.
The first mile was such a blast. I saw the familiar faces I usually see on my morning runs. I mean, I didn’t say hi to them or anything, that would be wildly uncharacteristic of us. Instead we acknowledged each other through absolutely zero verbal and non-verbal cues.
As I continued up my incline to Jackie Onassis Reservoir I could feel my sleepy french braid become sloppy. By the time I made it to the gate, my hair was FLOWING. It was really having a moment. At that time, I actually thought – Hold up – Oh my god, I have to go home, I can’t run with my hair down.
Instead of turning around and going home, I partook (is that a conjugate of partition?) in what I’ve come to call, Beyonce running.
I quickly changed my Spotify from my usual morning emo jams to exclusive Beyonce playlist and had the most flawless run. If you got it, flaunt it, right?
Now, I’m a big of fan #SportsBraSquad and being a diva and empowerment and all that ~jazz~, but let me tell you, I got more double-takes and puzzled looks with my flowing locks than I ever did with my midriff. Couldn’t help but wonder if that would happen if I were a boy.
The best part would be when I’d turn to my left, to my left, and see my shadow with my mane chasing my silhouette.
I guess, I GUESS, you could say that life (Central Park) gave me lemons (took away my hairtie) and I made lemonade (had a really awesome run).
I woke up like this.
Oh, one more thing. Who run the world? Girls.