I am 25 years old. When I was 15, I remember, thinking, "Wow, I'll be an adult one day." It sounded so exotic. But now I just feel old. I sit most of the day at a desk, which hurts my knees. I go home, and because my legs are tired from sitting, all I want to do is sit. The rest of the time I'm working as a waitress standing the whole time (well most of it). So, what is the logical thing to do? Run a half-marathon!
Yeah!
Once I said I would do it, I figured I had to go ahead and register and pay and do that whole rigmarole or else I would never become a runner. A runner. That concept sounds so foreign to me. When I think runner I think of skinny girls with amazing legs sweating it out at all times of day in all types of weather. I think of that girl on the treadmill 10 feet away from me who seems to never stop. I want to be that girl.
After registering I thought, "Well, hey, I should go to the gym. Hit the fake moving ground running (it's too damn hot in Texas to run outside)." So I put on my new shoes and my new shirt and my new pants, and I headed to the gym. I bounded up the steps and chose a treadmill. I hopped on, walked for a few minutes, stopped, stretched, and upped the speed. Breath in. Breath out. Breath in. Breath out. This sucks. Breath in. Why did I do this? Breath out. I want to stop now. Breath in. You've only gone three minutes. Breath out. Yeah, but this is really awful. Breath in. You've got to do this. Breath out. Slow down. Look around. Nobody seemed to notice. OK. Well that was a valiant effort. Let's just walk for a bit and try again. Walk. Walk. Walk. Up the speed. Breath in. Breath out. Nope, I hate this. Stop.
OK, so I'll just hop on over to the elliptical. Let's just work on that stamina for a bit.
Haha, you can do it! And your inner monologue is exactly what goes through my head every time I try to run.
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