Oh my jesus! A few glorious months ago I decided to quit smoking. I love smoking. I mean I fucking love smoking. But at the ripe age of 25 I decided I love life too, and all that comes with it. So I put down my little blue box of ciggies and went on the mend. Part of 'the program' required me to pick up a new athletic hobby. WTF?!? New? That insinuates that I previously had an athletic hobby that would dovetail into a NEW hobby. I picked running. Marathon running, to be precise. And why might you ask? For the same reason that a lot of great things were done throughout history - the intent of impressing the opposite sex. You see my dears, there is a man who's affection I desire and he expressed interest in running a marathon. Gawf! Anything you can do, I can do better. With more grace, sophistication, and just the right amount of sex appeal!
Or so I thought.
I did the due diligence of research. I researched bras, shoes, the apparel, right on down to the technique of long-distance running. This is where the double rainbow ends! Now it was time to actually starts running. Fuck. I lace up my sneaks, pop in my ear buds and I'm off like prom dress. Day one: I'll just go for a simple three mile run...run...run...shit this hard. It's been about two minutes and I'm already winded. I must have gone about a mile already, right? Cue anvil dropping on my little cartoon body, I had barely dented half a mile. And I have to do how many more? You have got to be kidding me! Not even half a mile? What have I gotten myself into. Fortunately, I decided to take this fateful first run on a busy street in downtown Phoenix. Thus the humiliation of being passes by the little old woman power walking keeps me chugging along. Lung burning. Why did I smoke for so long? Better question: why in god's name did I quit? If you remember, I love smoking. You look cool. You generally are stationary. To trade it for something as treacherous as a 3 mile run began to seem sillier and sillier as the minutes ticked down. Tick. Tick. Tick. It was like waiting for the bell to ring before recess. As I round the last turn I am drenched in sweat and about to vomit from all the jostling that comes with a good run. I'm pretty sure I lost my left lung around mile two, and this is only the beginning.
