How Running Nearly Killed Me

July 15
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Fact: I am not a runner.

If you see me running it means either 1) I am chasing an ice cream truck, 2) My neighbor said there is wine open on her porch or 3) there is a sale at Anthropologie. In these cases, I will be sprinting at warp speed. But never for pleasure would I I still am very perplexed by why I decided to go for a run this evening. Let me be clear about something – I am in Florida and it is mid-July. This is on the list of worst things in the world, ever. It comes it at number 3. Genocide is right there at the top, followed by child molesters and right after that is running in Florida in the summer. Why would I want to participate in the third worst thing ever? When I’m not even a runner? Good question.

The best I can figure is I secretly hate myself. My family and I have been traveling for a week and have spent 16+ hours in the car. I was really itching to do something healthy with my body and my choices were limited. If there is a plus side to all this, I will say that I have quite a talent for convincing myself I can do anything. For example, running in the Florida summer. I convinced myself it was mind over matter and I was highly capable. (Nope. Lies. All lies.)

Certain this was a good idea, I strapped on my shoes and ventured out into the thick, damp heat to hit the pavement. Immediately my lungs started to seize up, realizing I was making them do cardio. Within 2 minutes my body was revolting, but I pushed on. I did. I pushed on like a mutha. Even when my entire right side was cramping and I started to go a little lopsided, I kept at it. Running. Like a legit runner. After what felt like a mile but was probably more like 30 feet, I thought for sure I was about to die. The only thought that gave me peace was imagining when someone pulls over to check my consciousness, they will hear and Brittany coming from my headphones and be like, “yeah, that’s a good song to die to.” But I know my luck and the way it would actually happen is, I would be dead on the side of the road for a while and by the time anyone checked for a pulse my shuffle would be on Kidz Bop and the paramedics would be like, “on man, that sucks.”

So I brought the run down to a medium walk. Just a small problem with that…it’s Florida in summer and my entire body is slick with sweat. To make the walking even close to tolerable I had to walk waddle with my legs about two feet apart so my thighs wouldn’t touch as well as hold my arms away from my body so my armpits would not touch the side of my body. I did not even care that I looked like a crazy person. I just wanted to get back to my parents’ house and take a freezing cold shower, drink a gallon of water and do anything but run.

While I was out on my near death run, I was thinking about all the people I know who run marathons. You guys are incredible. Really! You will never hear me say I am going to run a marathon or even 1/100 of a marathon. There are many reasons for this but mostly because without a doubt, I will be the pooper. I will be that pour soul that shits their pants on the marathon trail. Because after about 1/2  mile my gut is like, “Bad move, sucker.” My body was not designed for this. So run on my runner friends! You guys have all my respect.

As for me, I will stick with my yoga. Namaste.

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