Holy mother of something unholy, yesterday I got off my very large ass and I went jogging for the first time since waaaaaaaaaaay before the winter. And I’m talking Montréal winter, which just ended this morning, sooooo… about a year and a half ago.
I don’t know what came over me but I did it. I stuffed my sausage legs into a pair of leggings, threw on a hoody, grabbed my iPod and hit the bike trail.
Yeah yeah, I know “The bike path is for cyclists blah blah blah” Look people (dad) I move when bikes are coming. I jump into the weeds and skunk cabbage and I jog on the spot until you pass so take it down a notch JEEZ!
Besides, the bikes get this pretty path, along the train tracks, lined with trees and wild flowers. The pedestrian side walk is lined with garbage and car-washes and greasy, stinky, whistling, winking, cat-calling, creeps.
I did it. I got all prepped up, threw on these sexy bitches:
… mustered up all the enthusiasm of a toddler jacked up on sugar sticks and cotton candy
and I ran. I ran so far away. Well, as far as it is to run there and back in just under 30 minutes. And by ran I mean jogged. And by jogged I mean herumphed, which is pretty much a mix of waddling and skipping.
I ran for 30 minutes yesterday! Awwwwwwwwwwwwww yeah!
When I got back I was lobster red and wheezing like the frothy nostril of a bull dog with seasonal allergies. Sadly, I was too weak to take an “after” photo (damn!) but trust me. I did it.