I hate running. I suck at it. My feet hurt. My quads ache. I wheeze intensely as my asthma starts to take over, but just a little bit. Just enough to show how out of shape I am in even though I’m probably pushing myself a little harder each time I go out there.
I’ve never been a good runner. It was the one thing I dreaded more then anything in PE. I used to find reasons to skip school the day we had our fitness tests so I didn’t have to do the timed mile run. Correction. I also hated the flexed arm hang. I have absolutely no upper body strength (all of my stamina comes directly from my ass) and believe my best time for that was ALMOST 3 seconds.
To boot, as a child, I sneezed incessantly and got spontaneous nose bleeds. I was actually asked in high school to participate in math competitions (A subject I actually excelled in). I didn’t, because I had yet to be shown that math was a good time. However, in a word, I was a nerd.
So this morning as I’m huffing & puffing my way up the seawall towards my house, I muse over WHY? why am I doing this to myself? I mean, I feel like crap, I’m sweating (and probably swearing a little bit too) and am begging myself to stop.
I don’t understand why I wheeze SO much. I mean I can dance forever. I can jump and down for hours (and pretty much do). I was an aerobics instructor for 8 years for crying out loud. So I even using aerobics music on my ipod to help steady my pace as I run because I figure if I can bounce to it, I should be able to run to it. (I will flatly deny that I have those tunes on my ipod if you ask me in person). However, nothing seems to help. I’m starting to think maybe I should have a friend throw a ball for me to fetch. So why am I starting out the day torturing myself?
However, I then remember. I remember the past 48 sugar glazed hours where I’ve consumed almost entire box of fudgeeo’s on my own because I was craving cookies. I would have eaten the entire box (not in one sitting… relax) except the last 2 fell to the ground and well, that’s no good (can’t eat crumbs). I exclaimed with glee that I indeed hadn’t inhaled the entire box which Tit’s GF refuted by pointing out that’s like when she leaves 2 drops of wine in her bottle & exclaim she didn’t drink the entire bottle.
Fine.
So in another word, I’m a pig.
Only happens roughly once a month. I have yet to figure out why this is supposed to be a beautiful thing. Nothing is pretty about the whole experience. You break out, cramp, bloat & leak for 4ish days.
In a third word, I’m gross.
So as I run down the path putting one beaten foot in front of another and fight back a coughing fit I remember: I’m a gross nerdy pig. How about another mile?
At least in my 30′s no one is timing me & judging my pace nor does anyone call me a nerd anymore. (Shaloah did call me a dork last week but it was within context) I was happy with ‘getting out there’ and ‘exercising’ this morning soI thought I would treat myself to some home remedy spa treatments & slof off some dead skin from my face with a nice sugar scrub. Seeing as I had just washed my hair yesterday around 5pm, I didn’t see the necessary need to do it again so soon. So now I’m at my desk, writing this entry & am wondering what is this sticky crusty crap stuck to my hairline. Awesome. I failed to fully rinse my ENTIRE face off.
Guess I’m back to Nerd.