I’ve been jogging lately. I’m trying to get back into shape. When I say “back into shape” I basically mean I don’t want to be shaped like this:
Because look how big my hands are. Those are huge hands. And eggs are tasty to eat but I don’t ever want to look like one.
I tried the dieting thing. And while that was educational and I learned how to make some pretty bizarre shit using mushrooms, ricotta cheese, fake sugar products, fake butter products (which may or may not cause cancer), and anything egg-like, I was tired and cranky all the time. Plus, I could barely walk up the hills here due to the lack of carbs and therefore, energy. Have you seen the hills in San Francisco? Holy crap.
With a my waistband expanding to never seen before circumferences, I had to put an end it. But dieting made me angry. Putting oneself through deprivation JUST to get out of a little exercise is silly, in my opinion. Besides, last I heard, exercise was supposed to be good for you. Who woulda thunk?
So I started running. I’ve been running for three weeks now. I joined our local gym right when I got back from D.C. You might remember the gym I’m referring to. It’s the gym I joined back in May. The same gym where my first iPod took its last breath. (May she rest in peace.) The gym is about 200 feet from our apartment and it’s never crowded.
This time, I’ve been doing well. In just three short weeks, I have gone from panting like a fat dog and running a 45-HOUR mile, down to a 16-minute mile. Now, I am at a 13.5-minute mile. I run between 2.5 miles and 3.5 miles a day and I ride the bike for 7 (if time permits). While I realize this isn’t over-the-top or anything, I get my daily exercise and I feel pretty good about myself. (I feel even better after drinking all that wine and consuming all the left over candy we have from Halloween, too.) And I sweat like champ. Holy shit, do I sweat. My cheeks turn blood red. I look entirely unattractive. It’s amazing how ugly one looks on the road to trying to look good.
And wouldn’t you know, everything was going great up until George Bush won the election. I blame him entirely for my demise. On Wednesday, November 3rd, after my run, my knees began to throb. A few days later, they began to ache. Now, there are sharp pin-prick pains shooting up my shins all the way to the bottom of my knee caps. They feel like little jolts of electricity.
Most people probably wouldn’t continue to run. Because most people are smart. But not me, no way. I run to SPITE my knee. As a matter of fact, it’s sort of like I’m beating it each time I go to the gym. It’s like:
Take that, Bitch! And that, shithead! Yeah, suffer bitch!
And they take it. I run them into submission.
I realize this isn’t smart, but what the hell does a girl gotta do? Dieting didn’t work because I was a cranky bitch all the time. Yoga is great and all, but it’s not really cardio. So here I am, age 30, I finally get up off my lazy ass and start to actually work out every day and my body starts to fail me. The hell? I know that people walk because of knee problems, but I honestly ENJOY jogging.
I’m sitting here, writing this and I have an ice pack on each knee and Toby (who is home today) is calling me “Crip”. I have eaten two Advil and I just continue whining.
I hate this.
Mihow 
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