On Running

So yesterday, I asked Chet if I could go for a run. He laughed like he thought I was joking. No idea why. I am extremely serious about my exercise.

I work my arm muscles very hard to whip up a batch of brownies. I exercise patience as I wait for them to bake. And the endurance it takes to eat my way through them pushes the limits of the human body.

Like I said. No idea why he laughed.

I actually had to ask him twice. Though I'm thinking I should have said, Can I go for a trot? Because that would have been more accurate.

This run/trot was all provoked by Born to Run. My plan was to go slowly, and really try to enjoy the act of running, rather than see it as a means to an end.

Plus, in the book there are all these stories of people who were like, What the heck I'll go for a run, and they end up running 20 miles or something.

This one guy (who wasn't a runner at the time) was out celebrating his 30th birthday and thought it would be fun to run 30 miles on his 30th and he just went out, straight from the bar, totally wasted, and he did it.

So I thought, YOU NEVER KNOW. I might be one of those people.

Except now I know.

(I'm not. One of those people.)

I made it exactly three miles. Whenever I got tired, which was basically the whole run after the first two steps, I kept telling myself to trot, slow down, look around, and enjoy.

It worked, mostly. About halfway through I started to psyche myself out cause my legs were tired, so I was like, Be thankful you have legs that move, WOMAN. And I kept going.

(Do you like how it sounds like I was accomplishing a magnificent feat of endurance? Instead of a measly three mile run?)

And now, THE. PAIN. My abs are so freakin sore, they hurt to touch. It hurts to breathe. And yes, it's kind of embarrassing that I am in more pain now than Chet was after his half-marathon.

I'm thinking I need a do-over, though. I still might be one of those people - maybe if I start off my run with a gin and tonic? Or two?