Observation on Female Athleticism Or Why I Run

I've been running faithfully since the beginning of February, and it's starting to show, as numerous people have commented, some several times, on my changing shape. “You look so skinny!” or even, “You're just wasting away to nothing!” It's meant as a compliment, I know. It's what society has told us (especially women) that people (especially women) want to hear when they're clearly reaping the benefits of  their lifestyle choices. But that's not why I run.
I distinctly remember Mom reading the Just-So Stories to me when I was young. The way she told about the Mother Jaguar in “The Beginning of Armadillos,” dispensing killer's insight “ever so many times” whilst “graciously waving her tail” particularly stuck in my mind. She was strong and sage and serene. I wanted to be like her.
I want sturdy limbs, limber joints, capacious lungs, an effective heart. I want to be able to go longer, faster, to have the times I need to stop and catch my breath be fewer and further between. I want that awareness of my muscles that makes me hold myself differently; straighter, more gracefully; that causes me to move like fluid, like a predator, even if I'm just walking. Most of all, I want never to have to pass up an adventure because of my physical limitations.
In short, I want to be strong, fast, agile. I want to be wild, fierce, and free. That's why I run. Not to fulfill some standard of appearance, and certainly not to please some hypothetical observer. What's more impressive – having a gap between your thighs, or being able to run a marathon on them?
I'm not getting smaller; I'm getting stronger. I know people mean well, but I'm not aiming at an ideal weight. I'm aiming at Mother Jaguar.