This time, the park smelled of bacon. Bacon?!?!?!
I’d feel guilty about how good the smell was, but I was running, so I refuse. I feel bad enough.
I hate running. I hate the impact, I hate the boobs jiggling, I hate the feel of my backside flab flapping all over the place (how’s that for a beautiful image? O.o). I hate feeling that I run slower than I walk and that strangers are laughing at the sweaty, fat girl gallumping around the park like an elephant posing as a gazelle.
But . . . I love running. I love the breeze in my face, the song of birds in early morning and the sense of accomplishment when I’m done. I love how good it feels to know I’m taking positive steps forward towards fitness (even if yesterday I managed to stress eat an additional 1,200 calories in the form of crisps and biscuits . . . oops!). I love feeling my body getting stronger and my endurance improving. I love pushing myself and suddenly understanding that I can do more than I ever realised.
Funny isn’t it? I hate running but I love the stuff that comes from it.
What to do with me, eh?
Couch To 5K – Week Three, Run Three: Complete