I don’t know about you, but almost every day I have the urge to punch someone in the balls. This can happen at any time…while I’m working, watching tv or even just working out. Actually, it frequently happens while I’m working out. Why? Because working out pisses me off. Luckily for G, I only want to punch him in the balls every once in a while.
Right now, I’m “training” for the stupid half-marathon I signed up for in January. Seriously, this was a huge mistake. I’m sort of following a training schedule, but I’m really only trying to get the long runs in every weekend and do shorter runs the rest of the week.
For the last two weekends, that stupid schedule said I had to run 7 miles! WTF?!! Really? Seriously, I wanted to kill myself just reading that. What makes it worse is that I have a horrible fear of running in public, on the streets. I might even be a little agyrophobic (fear of streets or crossing the street)…at least when I run. I’m afraid I’m going to get hit by a car (because I don’t pay attention) or that someone I know will see my giant hips running down the street (in tight running pants). These fears led me to create a few requirements that must exist before I will run outside: (1) it has to be light out and (2) everyone in South Jesus must still be sleeping.
Two Sundays ago, I didn’t want to dodge cars, people or trains, so I went here:
That’s right, the track. Do you know how many laps you have to do to run 7 miles? Let me help you with that math…28. That’s a lot of f*cking laps. And about 20 times during each lap I thought about punching someone in the balls. But you know what? I finished the 7 miles…and I could barely walk the next day. Perfect. Thankfully, G didn’t have me scheduled to do the “hoe-stroll” until Thanksgiving day so I had a few days to recover.
After enduring the 28 laps of hell, I looked at my stupid training log to see what my long run was for last Sunday…and lucky me, it was another 7 miles! I can’t even begin to tell you how excited I was to read that. I didn’t think I could endure the track again so I mapped a run out on mapmyrun.com. Unfortunately I slept in on Sunday and, therefore, requirement 2 (above) was not met and I could not go on my planned run. I know, I’m a loser, a weirdo and a total mess.
I didn’t want to miss my run and fail at my “training” in only the second week, but my only options were the dreaded track or this monster:
The treadmill. I couldn’t handle the track again so I went to the gym with the idiot, G.
That’s G in 2000…nice shorts…and socks…and shoes. At least he’d stopped rockin’ the jheri curl.
And so I ran and ran and ran…well, actually, it was more like a jog. A very.slow.jog. But I finished the 7 g–damn, mother-f*ckin’ miles. And again, wanted to punch everyone in the balls. While I’m glad I finished the run, I’m really scared to run the longer training distances…oh yeah, and the half-marathon.
Conclusion: I doubt I will ever love running…it’s hard to love something that feels like it’s punching you in the balls every time you do it.