For this weekend’s debate, I figured I might as well continue the “running” theme that’s been so prevalent around here since Friday. After all, I’ve never been known to stop beating a horse until it’s stiff as Jacob Marley*.
I went out for my first workout tonight, which I would call a run, but that would be like equating a 6-year old in a wading pool to what Michael Phelps does. Err…swimming, that is, not the, um, recreational smoking.
Anyway, I’m following a 5k program that promises to ease me into this whole running business, so tonight’s effort was more walk than jog. But that’s okay, because I didn’t end up flapping around on the sidewalk, gasping like a fish out of water. This alone is enough for me to call the whole endeavor a success, but as an added bonus, it’s about an hour later at this point and I genuinely feel good. Holy slow-release endorphins, Batman.
Truth be told, I’m kinda scared, but then, I used to be scared of girls, too, and now I’ve got four kids. So, you know, I’m betting I won’t let that stop me.
Still, I was expecting the type of misery Shakespeare once wrote about, and I’ve been treated with the polar opposite. So I got that going for me, which is nice. That said, after unveiling my ridiculous running plan, quite a few people said to me, “God bless you, good luck, but…running…ugh. I’d rather paint a house with a toothbrush!”
Which brings us to the debate:
Running: Reasonable physical activity or curse of the Dark Master of the Underworld?
I’m not convinced about either yet. Time will tell.
And now…more water.
*No horses were injured in the accumulation of this weekend’s posts