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Women of Cellulite, I Salute You!
By Anne M. Weinberg, Major, USMC
I must confess, after 13 years as a woman officer in the U.S. Marine
Corps, I have secretly considered myself physically superior to most
average American women. Obviously, I fail miserably in comparison to
elite athletes. But in general, I can run, play most any sport, shoot a
rifle and carry 40 pounds of "gear" over 25 miles of hills wearing
combat boots and field utilities in any type of miserable weather.
When I decided to run the Marine Corps Marathon as my first marathon nine months after the birth of my second child, I had only three months to train for the October race date. I knew I would be able to finish the race, but I wanted to finish without injury or excruciating pain during the subsequent recovery period. I logged in about 25 miles during the workweek and got in long runs on Saturdays. My longest training run prior to the marathon was 21 miles. I felt prepared, I felt healthy – I felt THIN! My leg muscles were more defined, my arms were svelte, I felt confident running in a jog bra and shorts! I wasn't going to break any land speed records, but I was going to finish strong and was going to look good doing it!
The weather was absolutely perfect! The air was charged with excitement and apprehension. I met several other first-time marathoners. We listened carefully to veterans giving out last minutes tips. We stretched like we knew what we were doing, and we didn't talk too much for fear of wasting valuable energy. The howitzer fired with its impressive boom, signaling the start for the elite racers who would finish around two and a half hours. I lined up in the corral with folks who predicted they would finish in four to four and a half hours. It took about eight minutes to get to the starting line and about 10 minutes to go from a slow jog to a comfortable running pace. I listened to the oft-heard advice to keep my adrenalin in check and not start out too fast. At about mile 5, I was able to settle into a comfortable pace and take in the sights around me.
That's when I saw it. Big butts, little butts, old butts, young butts, firm butts, flabby butts – I was surrounded by butts. I've gotten compliments on the "fitness" of my "assets" from time to time. My husband is a butt-man and appreciates all that I have to offer. So it's not like I was feeling insecure about what I was bringing to the course. I was, however, absolutely amazed at the sea of cellulite that I found myself in. Even more to the point for my over-inflated ego – I was BEHIND all of those butts. Meaning that I physically could not catch those cellulite butts and thighs to save my life. Keep in mind that I'm a lean, mean fighting Marine. I fully expected plenty of women and men to be ahead of me. But I expected every one of THEM to be lean, mean fighting machines as well.
So to all of those dimply, jiggly, wiggly and downright giggly butts that finished the marathon ahead of my injury-free time of four hours and 18 minutes – I salute you! Thank you for putting my puffed-up self-esteem in check and giving me something to work even harder for. I wonder if I finish in the 2:30s, will there still be butts-of-cellulite (BOC) ahead of me?
