I hate running. I think it was sent from Hades himself to torture me. I know many of you are thinking, “running is great!” “I feel wonderful afterwards!” “It helps me relieve so much stress!” “I do my best thinking when I run!” “Liv, you should really give it another try.”
Well, I have, and it’s just not workin’ for me. Running makes me feel like the kid from The Goonies who’s forced to do the truffle shuffle. I hate it. I get sweaty and stinky and I have to take a shower afterwards (another thing I hate is showers), not to mention I wheeze like a chronic smoker. Yeah, it’s not a pretty sight.
And for the record, the best stress reliever for me is sitting on the couch snuggling and eating brownies while watching a movie. Now that right there is perfection! Also I do my best thinking while sitting and thinking (it takes lots of concentration).
Despite my vaguely concealed hatred, my husband still thinks it’s a good idea to “take a jog” every once in a while. So, earlier this week, I conceded to his pleas and went for a
jog run…with three dogs. (Granted, I was only holding onto one of them- the old one mind you.) So we wake up early and begin our, didn’t know ’til later, two mile jog run.
As always, I started out thinking. “This isn’t too bad.” “The weather’s nice, it’s not that far, I can do this!” What a lie. About 5 minutes in I’m huffing and puffing and getting pulled by the (old) dog. I keep encouraging myself until we reach the halfway mark. By then, I’m spent. I’m thinking, “just go get the scooter and pick me up here, then find a nice grave by the ocean for me.” Rather than die, I decide to take a break and walk a little, which means that Nick gets soo far ahead of me. Oh, yeah and the dog still wants to run, so I’m still getting pulled.
Thinking I’ll be clever, I decide to make a short cut through the field to catch back up with Nick. Little did I know, but there were people playing golf in the field. (It is a driving range, but, really, people, golf at 6 am?) So now I’m trying to catch up with Nick (which means more running), pulling a dog that now decides it’s time to find a place to poo, but I’m also watching for flying golf balls! In the midst of my golf ball dodge, I suddenly realize I’m just pulling an empty collar on the leash. The dog had wriggled out of it and was sniffing around, the devilish fiend! FINALLY, I make it back to the side walk with the dog in tow and catch up with Nick who’s now waiting on me.
So there you have it folks, running is bad for my health. Now excuse me while I go gobble up some gooey brownies and watch a Disney movie.