It is a beautiful January morning. Only in Tennessee will you ever hear me utter these words. The sun is breaking through the clouds, yet there is still a pleasant enough of a breeze that you think to yourself, “Oh, what a perfect day to run outside”.

You get suited up by putting on your recently acquired Nike leggings, an intricate 6 strap sports bra that is “super comfortable”, and a trendy top from Target’s latest collection. Your Spotify playlist begins to shuffle along some of your most inspiring tracks and you begin, as Miley Cyrus brilliantly states, “The Climb”.

Safe to say, at this point, you are feeling pretty good about yourself.

Then, instant regret hits. The breeze you thought was so pleasant is still there but now in the form of your heavy breathing. That sports bra is slowly cutting off circulation and forming permanent indents in your back from the criss cross pattern you mistook for loose. The trendy top whose tag claimed it was a “breathable” Dri-FIT material that wouldn’t show sweat stains, looks like you just got caught in a rainstorm. Your hair that was once tightly pulled back into a smooth ponytail is now dangling loose at your shoulders (don’t worry that nice puddle of sweat you have accumulated on your forehead is bound to make for a nice substance to pull it back again with). You catch a glimpse of yourself in a shop window and have to do a double take to make sure that that hunched over, sweat-stricken, and melting puddle of a person is indeed, you.

Yep, it is.

Let’s be real this has happened to the best of us. This happened to me this past Saturday and during the realization I should probably run inside, on a treadmill, alone in a secluded space I also witnessed something even more life changing. In the same reflection of that store was a boy and a girl running…together. Now they had obviously just started their run, or are just in much better shape than yours truly, because neither of them had really started perspiring or panting. When I looked at them through the reflection, then back at myself, I instantly thought, how?How can they run together, whether they be dating or flirting or planning to get married when they are 30 and single, knowing they will end up looking how I look?

Because as we all know there are those moments when you run that you would like to stay between you and your shoes. For example -

Exhibit A : the scenario I just described to you, a huffing and puffing version of yourself that I would not want my mother to see, let alone a prospective male caller.

Exhibit B : that one time or maybe several times you have tripped over your own foot, the sidewalk, a stick, or air that has caused you to go tumbling down.

Exhibit C : simply the aspect of sweat. We all do it - women, men, dogs, adolescent teens going through puberty, etc. It is damp, sometimes smelly, and on rare occasion, like if you stumble in a Gatorade or any athletic commercial, it has the potential to make you look like you glisten in a beautiful way.

As all these things cross my mind when I see this couple jog past, it finally hits me: they don’t care. They have gotten past the “Honeymoon Phase” of never being even a little imperfect around their partner and are going to sweat in front of them. They may smell or have a beet red face but they know their significant other doesn’t care. Now that is some Nicholas Sparks kind of trust.

If you are one of these couples, I admire your bravery and aspire to have a relationship where this is accepted.

Or perhaps this was that couple’s first run together, they realized everything I just pointed out, and are never planning on running together again. In that case carry on.