I used to be in excellent shape. I played hockey and soccer, and I could run (or at least skate) for a long, long time, without feeling like I was on the verge of death.
Then I stopped, put on a bit of weight, and got in horrible shape. Recently, I decided to change that.
Except for yesterday, I've tried running at least two miles a day for the past few days. So far, I haven't been able to run the full two miles without stopping for a bit here and there. Today's run went something like this:
"Alright, you fat fuck. You are running today, and there's nothing you can do about it. Get your ipod, put on your game face, and run."
"But how do I run?"
"Move your right leg, like you're walking. Ok, good. Now your left. Now do it a lot faster than you normally would."
"Hey, I can do this. This is easy."
"Yep. Sure is. Now turn on some loud music and do this until you hit the mile mark. Then turn around."
"Hey, self-loathing part of my brain?"
"Thanks. You're making me a better person."
"Don't thank me yet, you're only at the corner"
"Right. Eyes on the prize."
5 minutes later.
"Yes, self-loathing part of my brain?"
"Your legs hate you now, too"
"I know, man. What do I do?"
"Put on a face that makes it look like you're going to die any second now, and keep doing that leg thing I taught you"
"Like this? ARGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!"
"Hey brain? I'm going to die."
But then, somehow, I make it home. Then, I lay down and vow to myself that I'm going to find some other way of exercising, because I'm never doing that shit again.
But then I do it. And it sucks. And it's hard. But I'm doing it.
That's what she said.