Wednesday, July 18, 2012

My internal dialogue on a 5km run around the neighbourhood


*Start timer on letterbox*  Right Sandy, GO!  *Run 5 paces* Did I start the timer right? I’ll spew if I get home and realise it wasn’t going. *Stop running, turn around go back.  Check timer, it’s on.  Restart timer. Start running again.  Hope no one saw me do that*

Okay, let’s do this Sandy.  This feels great doesn’t it?  Damn I’m so healthy and fit.  Yeah, I rock. Love running……*Round corner of first block* This sucks.  Stuff this.  I want to go home.  Keep running Sandy, don’t be a sooky-la-la.  But I have a runny nose.  I need a tissue.  Pee?  Do I need to pee?  I think I need to pee.  Argh.  Woe is me.  I should go home and get a tissue and wee.  The postman is right there, he’s watching Sandy, pretend you are fit and keep running.  Don’t want the postman thinking you are a crap runner. 

It’s frigging hot.  Who wears tights to run Sandy, really?  Idiot.  I want to take them off.  Shorts, next time wear shorts.  You always wear shorts, why would you wear tights?  Cause you didn’t wash that’s why.  You’re a crap runner and crap homemaker. Oh, oh, oh, yay!  Downhill.  Savour the moment Sandy, savour the moment. 

ARgh I’m so over this song, why did I put it on my playlist?  Must remember to take it off later.  And add that irritating song the kids like. The one with the dirty dancing lyrics in it.  By that dog person.  Fox terrior?  Pittbull.  That’s it.  I’ll add that, it’s good running music.  Wait, isn’t that why I added this song I want to delete? 

Oh no.  Oh no. Uphill. I hate this hill, I hate this hill, I hate this hill.  You can do this Sandy.  You rock.  Feel that jiggle in your thighs?  You need to do this.  I. Want. To. Die.  I’m never running again.  Never. 

Oh, another runner.  She’s slower than me.  Ha!  I’m fitterer than her.  Run past her Sandy, stop huffing and puffing though.  Pretend you are all cool and calm and this is easy.  Hope she can’t see my thighs jiggling.  Frigging tights.  Shorts Sandy, shorts. *Runs past other innocent jogger*  Don’t fist pump the air Sandy, that’s too much.  Hope she didn’t hear Bieber blasting in my eardrums as I ran past.  It would lose the effect I was hoping for.

Am I halfway yet?  Must not stop and walk.  Need good time.  Aw man, look at that chick.  She’s fiterer than me.  Faster than me.  Bet she’s looking at me thinking what I did about lady Jane back there.  Damn it.  Run faster Sandy, faster!  She’s wearing shorts.  She’s not an idiot like you wearing your tights.

I’m awesome, I haven’t stopped.  Oh and I like this new pink song, this will make me run faster.  Yeah!  Go Sandy! *runs 20 paces at faster, stronger speed* ARgh.  This sucks.  I need to blow my nose and pee.  *Goes back to regular pace, picturing a strong pair of fabric scissors and hacking the tights off*

Never.  Ever.  Running.  Again.  Ohhh what’s that wrapper on the ground there?  Looks like some type of new twisties.  Must look at the shops later.  No Sandy, no twisties.  Feel that jiggling Sandy, feel that jiggling.  Must run outside more frequently instead of treadmill.  Will do it three times a week instead of one.  Treadmill is sooky-la-la.  If I was on the treadmill right now I could take these tights off though.

Okay the end is in sight.  You can do this.  Drink. Tissue.  Toilet.  Drink.  Tissue.  Toilet.  Drink.  Tissue.  Toilet.  Run.  Run.  Run.  Never running again.  Want.  To.  Die.  Run. Run.  Run.

*hits timer on letterbox* YAY!!! 24:20.  I rock.  You did it Sandy!  *looks around to see if anyone sees how awesome I am.  No.  Damn it.  Struts, huffing and puffing around back of house.  Shows the guinea pigs the timer, notes their look of amazement.  Stretching, breathing coming back to normal, sweat everywhere.  Drinks some water* 

Actually, I don’t think I need to pee.  These tights are really quite comfortable.  Maybe I will wear them again when running after all.  Not so bad.  Man I love running.  That was so much fun!

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