I have never considered myself a runner, even though I used to several miles a day. And by several, I mean about five. But I don't like running. It doesn't make me happy. It doesn't clear my head. In fact, I pretty much spend the whole time thinking, "I fucking hate this. I fucking hate this. I FUCKING HATE THIS." But then I get done, and I have the skinnies. And I don't hate the skinnies. So I used to run. A lot. Sometimes outside, if the weather was absolutely perfect and my knee felt up to it. But often on a treadmill, because running outside makes my knee swell to the size of a grapefruit. I have never been fond of grapefruit. Especially on my knee.
When we moved, I gave up my gym membership. No big deal. With the purchase of our house came a fancy pants country club membership along with a sports club. Except, long story short that is an entirely different story that I am not going to tell right now because it will make me scream, we won't have that gym membership for about two more weeks. That means six months without a gym membership. In winter. When I won't run outside. Because I don't do cold.
But today the weather was perfect. No excuse perfect. And the skinny jeans were getting way too tight. I dug my running shoes out of my closet. Took the tag off the brand new running shirts I bought SIX months ago. Loaded my running mix back on my ipod. And set off, determined to make it two miles. Just go easy.
The half mile point put me just outside of our section and even with the guard shack where a line of cars sat waiting to enter the neighborhood. Which is just about where I threw up.
The first time.
Whatever. That's just how you get the skinnies faster.