I hate running.

My major is exercise and wellness. Given this fact, you would assume that I enjoy doing things such as exercising. Ha! I do exercise, and sure, I enjoy the benefits, like cardiovascular health, reduced stress, and not being obese. But the actual act of exercising is about as pleasant to me as cleaning out the toilet. It needs to be done, but if a system were available in order to stop doing it, I would be the first in line. 

I went for a run this morning. There are a number of things that I have to do in order to delude myself from reality enough to run a few miles. If my mind becomes too conscious of the fact that I am exerting myself, I am suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to sit down and wait for someone to take my deranged self back to the couch where it belongs.

My iPod needs to be pumping out tunes constantly. One time I was on a run, and I was 3 miles away from our house. My iPod died. So I called my Dad and he came to pick me up, because taking away my iPod is the equivalent of chopping off my foot. My iPod serves 2 purposes: 1. So I can't hear myself panting. If I can't hear it, it doesn't exist and I am much less aware of the agony I am currently experiencing. 2. Most of my songs on my running iPod are rap and pop songs with lyrics pertaining mostly to hot bodies. Somehow, listening to Fergie sing about her humps motivates me to get my booty in gear.

I also have to trick myself into thinking I haven't been running very long. I put my watch on upside down so that I can't just glance down at my watch and check how long the torture session has dragged on. Sometimes I play games with myself, seeing how long I can go without looking at my watch, and then trying to guess exactly how long I've been running.

When I'm running up hills, I look straight down at the concrete and try to guess where I will be when I look up again. 

I tell myself that if I were running a marathon, 6 miles would feel like nothing. 

I try to remember all of the names of my teachers from school, try to remember all of the dates my husband and I went on when we were dating, count the number of steps it takes to get to the end of a street, and a variety of other menial tasks to distract my poor brain from the reality of the situation. 

I wonder what motivates most people to run. Fitness? Hot body? The actual enjoyment of exerting yourself? Ha. I am motivated purely by guilt. When I see other people exercising, I just wish everyone would go home and be fat so that we could all be fat together and I would not have to sweat anymore.