Today it is raining. It is raining big fat heavy drops of water that seem to get in under my hood and through my scarf to soak through my hair and wet my back. I think my frog tattoo is actually attracting the rain, because that’s where all the wet is.
The rain is also running down the pavement outside of uni, turning it into a raging river that pools into my shoes and creeps up my pant legs. This is why I need to hem my pants. If they weren’t 3 inches too long for me they wouldn’t be dragging along the ground, and my knees wouldn’t be wet.
The sign up form for regional Taekwon Do camp was posted online today. It’s semi official; there will be running. The equipment list: dobok(s), belt, RUNNING PANTS, sleeping bag, pillow, toiletries, cookies.
Let me start with saying: Cookies are not going to make up for the running thing. Bitter hot chocolate, with chili flakes, and whipped cream would not make up for running.
On the list of questions in the form there is one about medical conditions and allergies and stuff. I have (so far) resisted the urge to write a short paragraph about my crippling allergy to running.
I think that making up a medical condition to get out of physical activity would be very high school PE class.
I did wonder if perhaps I should start a mini running program. Just so that on the day of the running I wouldn’t collapse into a sweaty puddle threatening to throw up/ call my lawyer/ pass out. In other words, so that I wouldn’t completely embarrass myself by crying.
I’d just fit the running in around full time work, and uni, and TKD, and the gym, and study. Naturally it would have to be either late night or very early morning running. Except I don’t actually really do mornings. So late night running. Alone. In Miramar. Yeah that seems like a really smart idea.
The other alternative is running at the gym. On the treadmills which you now have to BOOK for ‘peak’ times between 5 and 7ish – so all of the times I’m at the gym and in the mood to run. (Although in the mood to run is kind of an oxymoron for me. There is no running mood.)
Unfortunately the having to book a treadmill thing was the last straw. I will be leaving my gym just as soon as I find a suitable replacement.
I’m thinking Les Mills.
So anyway. Back to that whole running thing:
Shannon At Camp While Running (sort of):
Shannon: (on the ground, crying, sweating, and thinking very hard about throwing up)
Fit camper: Dude. I thought you were fit.
Shannon: (gasp gasp, pant pant)
I am. Just you know. Not running fit. I’m squat and lunges fit – I can do like 30. in a row. And I’m free weights fit – I can do a whole class with 3 kg weights. And I’m walking fit. I could walk for miles! Not up hills or anything though.
Fit camper: I don’t think you can claim to be fit if you can walk, but not up hills. And weights are more of a strength thing…
Shannon: (wheeze, cough)
Whatever. I pay good money to my gym! I am fit.
Fit camper: Right. So why are you crying about running? I mean we’re still in sight of the start point.
Shannon: (Goes into cardiac arrest.) (And dies)
There you have it people. Running Kills.
You heard me.