Tuesday, January 04, 2011

I get extra points because part of my jogging route is up a slight incline

So, I decided to start running. My legs, to paraphrase Covert Bailey, are saying with surprise and shock, "Oh my word, she's running."

No, I do not anticipate having to outrun pursuers anytime soon. I just decided that I need to get in shape. Yes, I have said this before. No, I haven't been successful at at.

But this time I've actually been making progress. RR and I have been walking regularly, and now I can run half a mile at a time. That's a laughable distance for real runners, but that's more than I've ever been able to run at a time. I haaaate running. Every part of me feels like it's falling apart---my knees, my ankles, my shins---it just feels like all of my bones are crashing together and I might shatter at any moment. I blame that on my very, very slight scoliosis, a condition that's to blame for my hips being uneven, and, I suspect (despite the total lack of any scientific or medical confirmation) the fact that my ribs stick out so much that I can't wear button-up blouses if they are too fitted. It doesn't help that my legs are uneven, too, with one leg being longer than the other, which makes me stand crooked, which prompted a "friend" in college to tell me that I looked like prostitute on a street corner when I stood still. We weren't friends for very long considering that was about the nicest thing she said to me during our friendship.

But it's probably not really the lopsided body that makes me hurt but rather the fact that I don't know how to run properly. Also, my running shoes are years old.

I say "run," but of course, I run like a grandma. A grandma who's out of shape and beat down by the trials of life but who keeps plodding on. Instead of "run," it's really more accurately described as the slowest, saddest jog you ever saw. I imagine it's how I'd run if I had rabies: a slow but purposeful forward movement, more or less in a straight line, staring off into the distance, wearing a confused, angry look on my face. I don't foam at the mouth or anything, but the cold air does aggravate my asthma, and I get this wheezing, phlegmy thing happening, so I feel like I'm filtering my air through a mucus filter, and that's kind of gross. I keep at it, though. I plan on ordering one of those cold air masks, which I guess will make me look like someone who has rabies jogging on her way to rob a bank. Hopefully, though, after a few months, I will look like a slim, trim, rabid jogging would-be bank robber.

As an unrelated note, I can't believe that I left Ok Go off of my list of favorite songs from 2010. "This Too Shall Pass" and "White Knuckles" should have been on that list, and no, I am not a hipster-in-training. I just like Ok Go. And of course I also like their videos. Ok Go is just one of many music acts out there that, in my opinion, weigh against the arguments of some people that American music videos are generic and uninspired.

I don't know how to end this, so here's a drawing of a squirrel playing the drums:


You can buy a t-shirt with that screen print at the Ferdinand Home Store website, btw.

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