You guys, I like REALLY want to be a runner.
I am so envious of those people who consider themselves runners. The people who enjoy getting up at the break of dawn, lacing up those sneakers, and setting out before the rooster crows to burn some good old fashioned calories. I WISH I could do that.
But the painful truth is that I would much rather stay snuggled up in bed with my kitties all up in my face than brave the 6:00 AM roads or smell a stranger’s arm pit at the gym, just so that I can fit into a smaller size pair of jeans.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m lying to your face. I’d LOVE to fit my 42 inch hips into a size small bikini by this summer, but girlfriends, that just ain’t gunna happen.
The point is, I try. I try and try and then I stop trying. And then I start trying a little bit, but then I realize how bad trying sucks, and how much I really HATE running. Why do people like running? What appeals to ANYONE about running? It sucks. Running literally sucks. (I apologize for using “literally” in this context) It sucks out all my energy. I think it even sucks out tiny pieces of my lungs, little by little, through my pores.
I am destined to be a compulsive over eater with giant hips and a deep seated aversion to most forms of exercise for the rest of my life. How lucky is Mike?