If I'm Running, Something Really Scary is Chasing Me

I am not a runner. Never have been. And I now know, without question, that I never will be. Lots of my friends are, and they love it. They track their miles, and increase their endurance, and all that kind of runner-y crap. Heck, some of my friends have run (and finished!) actual marathons. I've always admired them, but have never been particularly inclined to join them.

But something about spring makes you want to get out there and pursue some honest-to-goodness physical fitness. (probably the knowledge that you will soon have to wear a bathing suit in public. If that doesn't encourage you to move your ass, nothing will.). Despite the insanely high pollen count, it was a beautiful morning, so I decided to forgo my usual climate-controlled elliptical session in front of the TV in favor of some outdoor exercise. After dropping the twins off at school, I headed to the park to walk the trails. I was just planning to do a couple of power-walking laps around the trail. It's a big trail, and I knew that would count as decent exercise. But something about the cool spring morning, and seeing all those other people happily jogging, made me decide to see what all this running craziness is about. After all, I foolishly thought to myself, it's not like I've actually tried jogging. I might discover that I love it.

Yeah, right. What I discovered is that running SUCKS. I didn't even do that much of it, but I can tell you without a doubt, it suuuuuuuuuuucks. My thighs were already kind of complaining after walking these very same trails last night with my friend, LeAnne. She's this tiny little girl- she's not 5'2 on tiptoe, and I'd be surprised (and happy) if she weighs 110 soaking wet. But damn, can that girl walk! I swear, it's like she's got rocket boosters attached to her feet. So I was already in a little pain from my valiant effort to keep up with Speedy Gonzales, but nothing like the pain I would soon be experiencing.

I had no illusions that I was going to run the entire time- or even most of the time. I just figured I'd give it a shot and quit before it killed me. It took about three steps before I could sense the Grim Reaper jogging beside me. (He was going faster- even carrying that big staff) But I refused to give up that easily. Instead, I focused on a point in the (near) distance, and forced myself to jog at least that far before gratefully slowing to a respectable walking speed. I did that three or four times before finally admitting defeat. Not total defeat- I did a few laps around the trail, but 85% was walking. And in the future, 100% of it will be walking. Quite frankly, I prefer my shins un-splinted, my knees in working condition, and my hip joints where the good lord intended them to be.

And you runners can't change my mind. You can talk all you want about building up and breaking through, and that awesome runner's high. "Runner's High." Ha. You're high, all right, but if it takes running to get there, I'll pass. I've got no problem exercising to the point that I'm panting and pouring sweat, I just prefer to do it where there's air conditioning and cable.