After a truly bullshitty day, a head clearing, sweat inducing run is one of the only things (other than a cool glass of wine) that helps me to unwind. And rather than lay day on the Dr.’s couch and spill all my problems, I run. Running is my therapy. While it may not be as medically effective, it’s a lot cheaper. Plus, when did you ever lose weight laying on a couch?
My highschool gym teacher is scoffing somewhere. I did, afterall, convince her that crunches were only making my stomach bigger. So, the thought of me exerting myself voluntarily is probably mind boggling. I am well aware that 90% of the population would probably rather push a burning boulder of poo up a hill both ways before running… on purpose. The hardest part of running is putting on your sneakers and hitting the pavement (or treadmill). I certainly can’t make that part any easier, but a booty shaking playlist will most certainly help (and that I can do).
And yes, there is a little Bieber in the mix. If that’s wrong, I don’t wanna be right.