People keep saying that “the first step is the hardest,” but it isn’t for me. I can do anything once. Sure, it might take me months to work up the energy, but it’ll eventually happen.
The second time? Not so much. Novelty is my drug. Even if I enjoy something the first time, it’s nigh impossible to get myself to do it again. I’m like, I already know how this goes! Sure, some of it was good, but who cares? The pros and cons are no longer a mystery.
You know what I DON’T know yet? What happened on this week’s episode of The Blacklist. Soooo.
(Spoiler: it’s still pretty stupid)
Which is why it took me 6 days to re-motivate myself for run #2, and I had to use beer as a carrot.
If only carrots actually worked as carrots for me, I’d be fucking #ripped by now.
RUNNING PLAYLIST: All britpop, or some approximation.
Destination: A PLACE WITH BEER.
Distance: 2.38 miles.
Time: 30 minutes.
All this on the coldest night of the season BY FAR!
First thought as I walk out the door: JESUS BALLHOLES IT’S COLD.
Cue me spending the next few minutes trying to figure out what a ball hole is. A DOUGHNUT, MAYBE?!
I’m constantly surprised, though, by how little time it takes my body to warm up and cool down. My hands were stiff and my cheeks were numb, but I was up to a comfortable temperature about 3 minutes into the warm-up. Not freakin’ bad, body! I appreciate your wild temperature fluctuations?!
Except when it’s mid-winter, my heater’s off, and I wake up in a pool of my own sweat. Then it’s just baffling and kind of gross.
I know, right? Sorry ladies, I’M TAKEN.
So, first 15 minutes, I’m huffing and puffing and regretting every life decision leading to this point. But now it’s too late to quit, cos I’ve frigged up the timing on buses. IN IT TO WIN/LOSE IT, NOW.
This time, even though I’m actively trying to pace myself, I find myself getting pissed off when she’s like, “Now, jog!”
What’s weird, though, is that by the time the minute’s over, I want more. And by the time my 90 seconds of rest is over, I’m like “Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?! I’M CRAWLING TO THIS FREAKING BEER AND THEN I’M HAVING SIX MORE.”
A little over halfway through, though, I got used to the back-and-forth, and found myself wanting… more running?! I ran through most of my cool-down because (A) I was late to some shit and (B) I was seriously not okay with it being over.
First run: 2 miles. Second run: 2.38.
And suddenly I’m a self-competitive person. NEXT TIME IT’S 2.5 OR BUST, MOTHERFUCKERS.
Britpop playlist helped keep me on track, too. The right amount of energy and quirk. Man, Rizzle Kicks are so funky and adorable. Like babies made of bleu cheese.
Okay I’m bored with myself now BYE.