I’ve decided to take up running because apparently all the cool kids these days drive small cars and ride bicycles and run in minimalist shoes and play the guitar. I’ve got most of those things down, and if I ever get my hands on a guitar, I’m pretty positive I’ll be able to strum the hell out of it.
So over the weekend, Husband and I went to a local running store (I wish I could have just bought…the ability to run) and I landed myself a pair of these beauties:
Are these not just the coolest looking running shoes ON THE PLANET!? Yeah, I know, probably not. But they’re up there. I’m pretty sure. [As an aside, I am 100% willing to be the annoying person who gets into something that seems like a trend and promotes it to death. So, with that said, if you don’t have minimal running shoes, you need to get yourself to a running store post haste and buy some. I recently told Shadra that running in these shoes feels the way I’ve always wanted to feel while running — I just never knew I could. And I’ve HATED running my entire life. Now I want to go all the time. Seriously. I finish running and I want to go again.]
And so, on Saturday morning (like, early in the morning before normal people wake up on a weekend) I headed to the gym in my purplish grey running shorts with lime green side panels and hot pink trim and my bright aquamarine shoes and hit the treadmill like it’s never been hit before.
Yeah, you want a picture of that, I’m sure.
The Low Point
Did you know people run on treadmills at speeds higher than 5.5?
And suddenly my INSANE running regimen seems…not insane. A woman on the treadmill next to mine this morning was running at 8.3. I think she had a 7 minute mile, so I competitively raised my speed to 5.7. Yeah. Look out, woman. I’m jogging and there are no signs of me stopping.
I should probably get myself into better shape.