I’m serious….   either that or I wish I was.   This is horrible.   Part of me (a really big part) just wants to throw in the towel and be a fat our of shape guy who eats whatever he wants and dies too early.

I did my first run today.   I’ve been walking and getting pretty good at that, but I’ve know the day was coming when I needed to take it to the next level.   So I ran.  And by “ran” I mean I plodded down the street with my 40 pound feet slapping against the pavement and everything that is inside of me shaking and bouncing against it’s container while threatening to overflow.   I’m telling you, I felt like everytime my foot hit the ground someone was shoving an ice pick into my kidney.   My the time I had run about 100 yards my face looked like a cooked lobster and my eyes were bulging out of my skull.   Being Halloween, this was a perfect time to start this demented form of torture and the awful sound of me gasping for air and the loping gait of my “run” made me the perfect zombie.

Needless to say I didn’t make it very far before I had to stop and ask myself, “Dude, why are you running?  Nobody is chasing you!”    I stumbled home and passed out on the floor with a splitting headache.   It gets better right?