About 2 months ago, I was feeling really sloth-like, and I proposed to Mr. FGD that we do the Couch to 5k program I'd heard about from some "friends." Remind me never to speak to these "friends" again.
Much to my surprise, Mr. FGD was into it and agreed to do it with me.
Even when I was in super fabulous shape back in my late teens (yeah....so maybe it's been awhile), I was never into running. I was really tall for my age growing up, and the little bitches in elementary school that I went to school with would always make fun of the way I ran. I don't know why; I have no idea what I looked like, but I'm still traumatized by it. Plus, I just remember having to do those ridiculous physical fitness tests in high school in the frigid Connecticut winters, and feeling like I was having wretched asthma attacks while hacking my way along the one fucking cold ass mile.
So my general consensus of running has always been, FUCK RIGHT OFF, RUNNING.
I don't know what the fuck got into me.
Anyway, somehow I've made it to week 7 of the 9-week Couch To 5k program (aka The Slow Painful Death program). I want to die. Die. Die. Die. I have crazy mother fucking shin splints like you wouldn't believe. They were really bad at first, and then started to get better around week 4 or 5, and now that the only runs on the program are all consistent runs without any walking breaks, they are back in full effect.
(I use the word "run" loosely, as I'm pretty sure most of you could walk faster than my "running" pace.)
I'm not sure what the point of this post is, other than to drop the F-bomb as much as possible in connection with the loosely used term "running."
I haven't gotten any thinner, my legs ache pretty much every day, my legs scream out in pain while I run, and I dropped $200 on new running shoes and customized insoles.