This one is not very nice.

I slowed to a walk and glance down at my legs.  My thigh muscles stared back up in horror. "Well, now what the HELL was that???"

It was a run, my friends.  And it's time we got back in the game.

I slowed down (if you can call it slowing down, considering I was hardly moving in the first place) at 2.25 miles in to my first run in over 16 months.  At that point, I walked, stumbled, and cried a little for about another 1/4 mile, and then, get this, I ran another 3/4 mile.  And this is important because guess what?  All told, it means I ran 3 whole miles.

Boom, Beaches.

I also realized that I am an absolute jerk.  Like, a real MEGA jerk.  Okay, so maybe I didn't just realize it.  Tuth be told, this was probably information I already had.

So the thing is, it seems I can't find the gumption to keep running for miles and miles unless I have an enemy.  Who is this enemy, you ask?  And the answer is that it's probably you.  Yeah, you, right there, reading this blog on your couch, eating cheetos and hoping my writing gets more entertaining, I see you there.  And I'm talking to you.  Because I want to fight you.

I want to fight you, and be faster than you, or run farther than you, and even though you're probably skinnier than me, I will fight you.  I will beat you. I. Will. END you.

But it's okay though, cuz I know you want to fight me too.

I know, because I once had a bunch of people read my blog and say they thought maybe they'd like to start running too.  And then all of a sudden, I'd notice them posting about runs, signing up for races, and talking how they got all faster and skinnier than me. The inspiration?  If I could do it, ANYONE could.  As far as I'm concerned, that's a freakin war cry.  But you know what?  I don't fight a lot of those people any more, because some of them got way better and so now it hurts my feelings, and I long ago learned to never enter into a land war in Asia.  Or fight with someone who is better than you.  I'm pretty sure that's what that means.

Competition is good.  It keeps you striving, keeps you trying harder.  No, it's not particularly "nice", but as I've said, I think that maybe I'm not very nice.  And certainly, nice girls wouldn't growl so many obsenities under their breath as they rounded mile three and it felt like their knees were about to surrender to the unyielding truth of gravity.  And let's be honest, nice doesn't get you sexy.  It just gets you nice.  And maybe it helps you make friends, but I'm still contending that friends are overrated.  

So that's it for tonight, folks.  The baby has begun to unleash The Toots, which is a pretty good sign that he's about to wake up and I'll be required to be a mother again.  Until next time, happy weekending!