Yesterday I was determined to run and was convinced that it was going to be the best run in the history of ever. I’d had a good night’s sleep the previous night, was hydrated, fueled with a Crack Smoothie®, and was excited to start a real workout routine again. I pulled up to the gym feeling a little tired but knowing that the run would make me feel better, right?

As I got into the gym I realized that I’d had a headache for the last hour or so but attributed that to the shitty traffic I had just fought through. A girl changing nearby me was annoying me too. She was pretty much model material but that isn’t what annoyed me. It was that she was wearing a top and sports bra that were great for fabulous cleavage but that clearly didn’t support for exercise. I mean really, sex appeal at the gym? Bite me bitch. I strap ‘em down! I consoled myself with the fact that when we are 50 she’ll have saggier boobs than me because of it. Ha! I changed and made my way to a treadmill.

Now, when I talk about running, I’m actually talking about doing intervals of walking and running. I only actually run for 30 seconds at a time and then walk for a minute. I can’t sustain running for the 35 minutes that I “run” but I want to keep my heart rate up more, not get bored, actually run for a bit, and still manage to not pop a lung. The easy compromise was to do intervals. I call it running here on the blog, though, first because it takes fewer letters to type and I’m fundamentally lazy, and second because it makes me sound cooler.

So, I started the warm-up… and wanted to stop. No, I told myself, it’ll get better when you actually start the running part. Usually when I run I’m dying to get through the warm-up and just go for it but not today. I started running… and wanted to stop. No, I told myself, it will get better once you get your heart rate up. Wrong. In the second interval I realized that my legs just didn’t want to move that quickly and that I could hardly keep up with the treadmill… at 5.5mph. I was trying to take it easy already. So I slowed t down to 5mph for the rest of the runs.

In my defense I do have extremely short legs so I have to move them faster than you taller bitches when you run… just for the record.

I refused to stop, though, telling myself that I’d feel better when I finished. I’d have a blooming sense of accomplishment and pat myself on the head. So, I spent the rest of the run silently swearing at Miley Cyrus, Lady Gaga, and T-Pain in my playlist and thinking that I’d gladly break my chastity vow for Taio Cruz if he wants to break break my break break my heart… even if I have no idea what he looks like.

For the last two intervals I made myself go up in speed again just to finish right at least. I mean, I had been sweating profusely, cramping in my side, and feeling totally out of breath but my heart rate wasn’t even up very much. Oddly, though, the faster speed suddenly felt so much better… then I went to 6mph for the last 30 seconds and thought I might die.

When I was done I marched straight to the locker rooms in a contained petulant fury. When I got to my locker I saw a girl undressing that had clearly lost a large amount of weight already and was now about my size. I so badly wanted to ask her how much weight she had lost but considering I could only tell by the sag of her left over fat and skin, I thought it might be a bad idea. Instead I complimented her dark purple Nikes (drool!).

Once I got naked I made my way to what used to be the showers. They apparently had transformed into the Fire Swamp during my gym hiatus because I was greeted and nearly attacked by R.O.U.Ss.

I swear it was taunting me as I showered and tried to avoid combat with it.

This masterpiece artwork was inspired by the Sneaky Hate Spiral and by Where’s The Smoke

Confrontation with the R.O.U.S was avoided, though, and I left feeling tired and hungry. It wasn’t until I got home and smelled some delicious dinner smell in my parking lot (and I was ready to crash whoever’s dinner smelled that good) that I realized that the headache and overall shitty feelings were caused by sugar withdrawals. Sonofabitch.

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