If Runners Wrote Honest Letters to Santa

This Christmas, I would like one pair of running leggings that stays exactly where I put it.

I don’t want to pull them up at every crosswalk. I don’t want to spend the first mile wondering whether they’re about to slide down. And I would really appreciate pockets that can hold my phone without dragging the entire waistband toward my knees.

Ideally, they’ll also be comfortable, flattering, and not see-through when I bend over to tie my shoes.

I don’t feel like I’m asking for the moon here.

I would like a sports bra that does its job without becoming a medieval torture device.

Please make it supportive enough for running, but not so complicated that I need a second person to help me take it off afterward.

I am particularly interested in one that doesn’t dig into my shoulders, chafe under my arms, or somehow become three sizes smaller once it’s wet with sweat.

Last week, I got one arm stuck trying to remove mine after a run and briefly considered calling for help.

This is not how I want to go.

For Christmas, I would like my family to understand that all of my running shoes serve different purposes.

The blue ones are for easy runs. The newer blue ones are for longer runs. The white ones are for walking. The ones with the bright soles are for faster workouts. And the pair in the closet is technically retired, but I’m not emotionally ready to discuss that.

Yes, I know I only have two feet.

No, that is not relevant.

If you could please bring me another pair without anyone asking why I need more shoes, I would be extremely grateful.

I would love to finish a run and take out my ponytail without discovering that my hair has somehow tied itself into a knot the size of a golf ball.

I’m also requesting fewer weird ponytail dents, fewer sweaty strands glued to my forehead, and a way to remove a hair tie without bringing half my scalp along with it.

I’ve watched people finish races looking adorable, with their braids perfectly intact and not a single hair out of place.

I would like to know what they’re doing differently, because I’m beginning to suspect witchcraft.

I understand that eating and drinking enough during long runs is important.

What I don’t understand is why some running gels taste like somebody mixed cough syrup with pancake batter and left it in a hot car.

I would love something that’s easy to carry, gentle on my stomach, and doesn’t require me to spend the next half mile trying to get the taste out of my mouth.

Also, could you make the packaging easier to open while running? Half the time, the little tear notch seems to be there purely for decoration.

I shouldn’t need to wrestle with my snack on the sidewalk like I’m trying to break into a bank vault.

This year, I would like to run a faster 5K.

I am willing to work very hard toward this goal, provided that the work does not involve intervals, tempo runs, hill repeats, strength training, getting up earlier, or doing anything particularly unpleasant.

Ideally, I would like to maintain my current routine and simply wake up one morning with significantly better endurance.

I realize this might be a difficult request, but you travel around the entire world in one night. Surely you understand a thing or two about improving pace.

Please make my running watch a little nicer to me.

I already know I didn’t sleep well. I was there.

I also know that yesterday’s run wasn’t my best performance. I remember how it felt, and I don’t particularly need a tiny computer on my wrist bringing it up again.

Instead of telling me my training is unproductive, could it occasionally say something encouraging?

Perhaps, “Nice job getting out there!”

Or, “That hill was rude, but you handled it.”

Honestly, I’d even settle for a little thumbs-up.

For Christmas, I would like running weather that doesn’t feel personally designed to ruin my day.

Something around 55 to 60 degrees would be lovely. A few clouds would be nice. Maybe a gentle breeze that always happens to be blowing in the direction I’m running.

Please eliminate surprise thunderstorms, freezing headwinds, and the kind of Florida humidity that makes my shirt look like I fell into a swimming pool after twelve minutes.

And if you could make sure the weather forecast is actually correct for once, that would be wonderful.

Please help running groups understand that “all paces welcome” should mean all paces are actually welcome.

If a group run is advertised as beginner-friendly, I would appreciate not arriving to discover that everyone else considers a pace that feels like sprinting to me to be a casual recovery jog.

I don’t mind running slower than other people. I just don’t want to spend the entire morning watching them disappear into the distance while I wonder whether I’ve accidentally joined a competitive racing team.

A posted pace range would be great.

And maybe someone who actually stays with the slower runners.

I would like one good race photo.

Just one.

I’m not expecting to look like an Olympic athlete. I understand that running involves effort and that my face may occasionally reflect that effort.

However, I would appreciate not looking like I’ve just witnessed a terrible accident every time a race photographer points a camera in my direction.

Last year, I got a photo in which I appeared to be simultaneously sneezing, crying, and trying to escape a swarm of bees.

Please help.

I would like some help with a small communication issue.

Whenever I tell someone I’m running a half marathon, there’s always that one person who responds, “Oh, just a half?”

Only.

Santa.

It is 13.1 miles.

That is not a casual trip to the mailbox. It is not a slightly longer walk around the block. It is an event that requires training, planning, snacks, and, in my case, a very emotional relationship with my running shoes.

I’m not demanding a parade.

I would simply like people to stop acting like thirteen miles is something you do by accident.

I have a question.

Why do I suddenly need to use the bathroom approximately seventeen times before a race?

I can wake up at home feeling completely normal, but the second I arrive near a starting line, my bladder decides we’re in a crisis.

I’ve already stood in the porta-potty line twice. The race starts in ten minutes. And somehow, as soon as I get back to my corral, I start thinking about whether I should go again.

Please either fix this problem or provide each runner with a personal bathroom and an unlimited supply of toilet paper.

Please explain to my family that if my race starts at 7 a.m., leaving the house at 6:55 a.m. is not an option.

I need time to drive there, park, find the starting area, locate a bathroom, get my bib situated, and stand around pretending I’m not nervous.

I also need approximately seven minutes to decide whether I should change my shoes, even though I’ve trained in the same pair for months.

Please help my loved ones understand that race morning is not the ideal time to ask if I can stop somewhere on the way or help them look for a missing phone charger.

I love them very much.

But we need to leave.

This Christmas, I would like to eat a Christmas cookie without someone asking how many miles I have to run to burn it off.

The answer is none.

It’s a cookie. I can simply eat it.

I enjoy running, and I also enjoy frosting, sprinkles, peppermint bark, and those little peanut butter cookies with the chocolate kisses in the middle.

If you could please remind everyone that exercise doesn’t need to be a punishment for enjoying dessert, I’d really appreciate it.

Also, if you’re taking special requests, could somebody make a Christmas cookie tin that doesn’t run out of the good ones first?

I would like one full day of recovery with absolutely no responsibilities.

I’m talking clean sheets, soft pajamas, my favorite snacks, a fully charged phone, a good book, and a couch that I do not have to leave unless I personally feel like it.

Please make sure there’s something good to watch on TV and that nobody asks me what we’re doing for dinner.

It would also be wonderful if I could stand up after sitting for an hour without making a noise that sounds like a haunted floorboard.

I have been very active this year.

I would now like to be extremely inactive for one beautiful afternoon.

Please tell my family that my race medals are not clutter.

They are accomplishments.

Yes, I understand that there are quite a few of them now. And yes, I understand that I have reached the point where they occasionally get tangled together and make a loud metallic crashing sound when I try to move them.

That is beside the point.

Each medal represents a race I trained for, showed up to, and finished. Some were fast. Some were slow. Some were accomplished almost entirely through stubbornness.

I love every single one.

So this Christmas, I would like a medal hanger with plenty of extra room.

Because if everything goes according to plan, I’m going to need it.