Running addicts – be warned. I totally understand the importance of running, and um, doing it, but as these are completely pointless explanations of my feelings, I thought I’d share the ones I have about the thing you very much love…feelings, which are, generally negative.
You see, I much prefer an awesomely brisk walk to “the run.” What’s wrong with walking? Lots of people can do it way better than running. In fact, elementary school kids where I grew up are pretty much banned from running. It went like this: in 5th grade, if you’re not a total loser, you get a highlighter-green colored sash to wear that allows you to yell at basically anyone that doesn’t have one. I believe the title is “Safety Patrol” but I just used my powers to abolish as much running as possible.
You see, I was super jealous. Because fifth grade was also the time to take that presidential fitness test bullshit where you time yourself running a mile and really what is the point of doing this to 10 year olds?! I was happy! Did I really need to know that my mile “run” time was 99.9% below the average? No. I just wanted to watch HBO. (Yeah, I was a weird kid).
Thus, since that time, running has haunted my life. If it had a ghost form it would probably look like the floating creepy lady from the new Dark Shadows and wake me up in the middle of the night going “HEY. BARNABUS IS COMING AND OH YEAH YOU SUCK AT RUNNING.” And then I’d remember that I saw Dark Shadows and get mad at myself all over again.
Lena Dunham tried to run this past week on Girls and made me feel slightly better when she barely ran for 4 minutes, sprawled out in the middle of the street, threw her shoes at her Chuck E. Cheese-faced boyfriend, and then proceeded to get ice cream. Why do I always crave desserts after exercise? It is the cruelest thing my brain and stomach can do to me. They’re a team. Like… Rizzoli and Isles but with less repressed sexual tension. “YOGURTLAND!” they scream. “You want Yogurtland. And don’t start eating it before you get to the cash register, because remember last time when they yelled at you for being an impatient fatty?”
Yeah, I remember. But I’ve also thought that maybe the Powers That Be just don’t expect me to run. When I came to college, I wanted to join the marching band and realized a huge part of that was, well, running. “Take a lap” should be the slogan used in most marching bands. So, I started “taking laps” and on the first one, I thought: “Hey… this isn’t so bad… I’m running!… it’s going so well…oh, shit…what is that my chest?… what?…I’m dying…no, seriously I’m actually dying…why does no one care?… take another lap?… WHAT.”
Eventually, someone was like “Hey you should probably go to the health center.” So they stuck a tubey thing in my throat and told me to blow and that’s how I found out I had asthma. And that was way more sexual than I meant.
Asthma. Like, a real thing that prevented me from being able to keep running and running without stopping. It all made sense. I was going to be okay! And while my shiny new inhaler didn’t make my chest explode and accidentally shot steroids into my mouth because I didn’t know how to use an inhaler, I still sucked at running.
It really is just me. And so, I’ve really been trying. Y’know, “building my stamina” or whatever by trying to do a little bit each time I exercise. But… I still don’t like it and I’m really not sure if I ever will. It’s certainly not the worst thing – no, stepping on the scale after eating a burrito is the worst thing – but it will never be better than Yogurtland. It just won’t. And that, my friends, is why running just generally sucks.
Take it from this guy: