Well ... F#*! Me Running

So here's the 411.  I don't exercise.  I don't.  Not ever.  I don't make fun of folks who do, nor do I envy their discipline.  It's just not my bag man.

 I don't do yoga.  I don't do aerobics.  I don't swim, unless it's to get over to a float and I certainly do NOT under any circumstances run.  Running is for emergencies. And it better be a huge fucking emergency or I will rationalize all the way over to pick up your severed finger and stroll back in the house to get it on ice while I look for my keys.

There was one time ... long, ago, when I ran.  Very, very fast as a matter of fact, but I served  my debt to society and I am living a corruption free life now and I don't feel like I need to explain myself to any of you derelicts.  I do remember that time when I ran and frankly it was kind of like a near death experience.  I ran completely out of air, fell to my knees and saw a white light.  Now, that could have been the after effects of being tased with an X26, but I digress.

My 13 year old son has been introduced to the "joys of running" at school and on a four hour drive home from Columbia I listened to how much he wanted to start running for "fun" and how he wanted me to commit to running a 5K with him.  After I stopped laughing ... I tried to explain to him that I do not run anywhere.  Not to the mailbox or even after an ice cream truck and that I am old and feeble and participating in such a high risk sport may actually kill me. He was not impressed.  "Well, you won the Presidential Physical Fitness Award back when it was hard to win, so you can run."  I said, "Who told you that horse shit"?  "Grandma".

So now I am training to run a 5K in November.  What a bunch of BULLSHIT!  The first night I got a reprieve, rained like hell, thunder, lightening ... Saweeet!  Last night, not so lucky.  I spent most of my day on the phone with the local weather man threatening to shove bamboo shoots up his fingernails if he could not give me the forecast I was looking for.  The rest of the time was spent bitching at my sister to help me find the nearest Quapaw tribe to perform a rainmaking ritual.  "Mom?  Why are you wearing feathers and turquoise"?  "To invoke wind and .... oh, never mind.  Just get your fucking running shoes on".

So I did the first "workout".  I get home and text my sister.  The convo went like this.

"Well, I did it.  Now for a celebratory cigarette".
"Sweet.  Did you get a runners high"?
"What's that"?
"I don't know".
"Exactly".

I ran/walked for 1.27 miles at 3.56 miles per hour.  I know right?  I was flyin'.  His Dad is running with him tomorrow. Who Does That?!