I ran. This is the first time that I’ve run in a long time. The last time I ran, was about a month ago. That was to dodge traffic. This was for something else. This was for my body. I thought this was going to be a cake walk.
Cake of fucking death.
My body fucking hates me right now. I was about to do about twenty minutes before it said “fuck you!” That was about 1.65 miles. I can’t fake it, it tells me this while I run.
It starts off with this sweet voice, “Beginning Workout.” The machine voice is sweet and melodic. Almost inviting. The same could be said about sirens until they eat you. After a half a mile I was remembering when I was a kid and about to run a mile in about five minutes. At this point in time I was wishing for a freak eighteen wheeler to come out of house and run me over.
“Five minutes has elapsed.” What the fuck?! Half a mile in five minutes? This was… was hell. I could hear her voice laughing as I pushed onwards. “Oh you’ve only ran this much? You have a long time left shithead.” The bitch.
I pushed on to the harpies voice. He nagging voice telling me how long I haven’t gone and the amount of distance that I’ve barely covered. I can walk the world, but I can only run about a half a mile before I’m wanting a triple meat with cheese from whataburger with a side of gravy fries.
I made it 1.65 miles before my body said quit it now. My pulse told me the same thing. The elliptical machine was nothing. I barely even broke a sweat. This was hell.
Tomorrow, I’m going to try something different. Slow, then fasterish, then faster, finally a nice steady pace. Something that isn’t going to make me want to commit hari-kari.
I think I’m also going to stretch more.
I’m still doing the half marathon in December.