The Olympics have been over for awhile now, but I keep finding my mind wandering back to Usain Bolt. Typically it’s because I can’t get over his arrogance (not that I never have that issue . . . ), but today it’s because I’m thinking about running.
I hate running.
And yet I committed to take eight weeks to train for a 5K. No WAY did I sign up for one (nor do I intend to), but I’m so sick of being out of shape (and, um, a little . . . pudgy) that I decided to go for it. Last Monday, I bought the Ease into 5K app for my Kindle, promising my husband that the three dollars I spent meant I was going to do the whole training program. I figured it couldn’t be too bad—you run three times a week, each workout using alternating stretches of running and walking to work you up to running a 5K in 30 minutes.
I figured I’d commit for eight weeks and then reassess. If I still hate it as much as I do now, at least I’ll be in better physical shape and can find some other type of physical activity I enjoy more.
I did the first day’s workout on Monday. And I haven’t done another workout since. You know why? Because muscles I didn’t even know I had hurt until Thursday. And then yesterday we went to the state fair. And consuming several hundred calories is way more fun than running. I’m sure you can easily see how I got myself into this physical state. But today, today I’m going to run again. We’ll see how it goes . . .
So if you hear me telling my husband I’m going to die, you can trust that it’s probably not true. I just want to make sure he knows how much I hate running. Because I do.
I really hate running. Oh? I said that already? I know. I just want to make sure you know it’s true too.
If I can lose some weight, I might not hate it so much. I’ll let you know how it goes.