I ran ugly, and I'm darn proud of it

I've seen the way people run on TV and in Runner's World magazine - perfect form, controlled breathing, hair flicking in the wind and just enough sweat to enhance an already perfect tan on already perfect calves.

I don't run like that - and I imagine not many real world runners run like that. But my run isn't just unpretty - it's ugly.

One mile into tonight's group run 'round the Back Bay (not yet ALL the way around - we're working up to it) I could feel the normal flush of my cheeks steadily increasing. Soon enough the skin on my face was not only pulsing with heat, but flaming red (which, I imagine, was made even more apparent by the pasty winter whiteness of the rest of my skin).

By mile two the sweat on my head - combined with the strong wind off the water - had spun my hair into a knotted mess in the back and two frizzy, wing-like puffs on the sides.

Nearing mile three I was running like a drunkard, panting and borderline snotty.

But I didn't notice - or didn't care - and I finished with my group. Three miles we covered - 7 minutes running/2 walking - which may not seem like much to some, but wasn't easy for me.

Had I been alone, I might've cut out early and gone home for some quality time with the sofa. But that's the cool thing about a group - not that other people inspire you, per se, but that you're so terrified of looking like a lazy jerk, you keep going.

It wasn't until I got into the car that I spotted my terrifying transformation in the rear view mirror.

I ran ugly - which really means that I worked incredibly hard - and I must say I feel pretty dang proud.

Run ugly everybody.