Pembleton and Pepe’s human pets have left for a cruise, so it’s just me and Dalmatians for a month. As soon as the humans were gone, Pembleton and Pepe quickly informed me that they require runs through Griffith Park. Every single day. Because they’re Dalmatians, see. If you don’t run them a lot, they go crazy. And when I say crazy, I mean Eye Crazed, Circle Running WHAT GOING ON!? LIFE DOESN’T MAKE SENSE!? I’M A BIRD Crazy.
The problem is, I’m not a runner. I’m a gym rat, sure, but I’m an elliptical gal, because I’m all about saving my knees for as long as humanly possible. I don’t run. And certainly not outside.
Pembleton and Pepe would have none of it. Because they’re Dalmatians, and they’re crazy. When we walked through Griffith Park, they’d go this way, that way, they’d get all tangled up in their leashes and HEY! I THINK I’M A BIRD! IS THAT ANOTHER DOG OVER THERE! I’M A BIRD! I’M SURE OF IT! WHY AREN’T WE FLYING YET?
So it became obvious that we were going to run. Whether I wanted to or not. The first few days were kind of rocky, and there’s still parts where we take breaks because if ‘m running, I am NOT running up a hill. But I’m grimly holding my own now.
I know there are plenty of people out there who think of running as a spiritual time. That it clears their mind, and allows them to concentrate and focus on talking to God. Or if they’re not talking to God, they’re focusing on some problem, and running allows their brain to think of the perfect solution.
Yeah, that’s not me. I can’t think about anything when I’m running but the rhythm of my breath and the sound of my feet literally pounding the pavement. It could be because I’m trying to manage two Crazy Dogs, or it could be because it’s the first light of the morning, or the fact that I’m just not a runner.
I better have dropped at least three pounds at the end of this month. Seriously. I’m eating celery and peanut butter for snacks, and apple slices with caramel for dessert. Tonight when I came home, I steamed some veggies and drizzled olive oil on top of them. Because I wanna see what happens when I adopt a healthier lifestyle.
And if there’s no noticeable difference at the end of the month, I’m shoving Twizzlers, Captain Crunch, and Krispy Kremes into a blender, and mainlining it directly into my veins.
I bet I’ll see God then.
3 comments:
hahahahahaa mainlining cap'n crunch is an awesome visual! 'atta girl!
i too don't find running or working out in general to be spiritual AT ALL. well, on second thought, constantly telling yourself, "you're not going to die, you're not going to die, even though you feel like you are" might qualify as a spiritual practice, right?
-x-
Wait, are you me?
I literally hate running. In or out of a gym (and I generally hate gyms full stop because they smell bad and everyone is watching you and judging you...)
But 2 months before my wedding I imposed an almost no carbs and limited dairy, only protein and fruits/veggies diet, and 200 crunches a day. I said if I don't notice any difference by the wedding, I'm done with routine pointless exercise and a restricted diet. Guess what? I lost A pound. One. We're done here.
Three thoughts -
1. That last line of yours cracked me up. I am still laughing and can tell that this will continue at least through evening church. And that's certainly helpful, so thank you.
2. The most wonderful moment of my life was the day my doctor soberly told me I really should never run again. But before that, the best moment was when Oprah admitted that, although she was going to keep working out for the rest of her life, she was pretty sure that she was always going to hate it. If Oprah can't talk herself into liking something, I sure as heck don't have to bother. As long as I do it, that's all that matters. Spiritual schmiritual.
3. I bet Wella would offer to run them for you on his training days...unfortunately, he broke his toe last weekend. And you MUST hear the story of that trip.
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