We started running. Now I should tell you that the word, "run" when used by me means "the slowest jog that is possible". And I should also point out that I am the dorkiest runner ever. I do a lot of singing along to my music, and when I sing along I like to get everyone else involved in the song by pointing and singing right to them at important song points. But since I'm running by myself, "everyone else" becomes the dog, a nervous squirrel, a dead frog, and an occasional bird. Until I get to our neighborhood construction sites filled with construction guys, when I get to those I run serious and stone-faced, like I'm in the Olympics.
So the run started out like usual, with me wondering why the hell I would do this to myself. But then I started to get into a rhythm. I started jamming to my music. I sang and pointed to the dead frog, "I knew you were trouble when you walked in!" I scared the nervous squirrel with a "I'm coming at you like a dark horse!" And I musically informed a nearby robin that "I'm all about that bass, about that bass--no treble!"
Then it started to rain. The dog was shooting me really dirty looks. She hates rain, as do I. But by this time I was halfway done and I didn't want to have to get exercise some other way when I was already here, already doing it. So, back to my music, only now I was looking crazier by the minute. A crabby, soaked dog by my side, rainwater running down my back, and still I'm singing/yelling out random song lyrics.
Then I noticed my shoe was untied. Then I bent down to tie it and my headphones flew out of my ears, then my crabby/freaked out dog ran a circle around my legs, tying me up with her leash. Then one of the construction guys came by. He waved and chuckled.
I looked exactly like this:
except not as cute, and instead of one of my ears being adorably askew, both of my ears were dripping with a combination of rainwater and sweat, And I was wrapped up in a leash. And my headphones were dangling. And my shoe was still untied. But I looked that same amount of pathetic.
Just in case you were looking for a feel-good, warm-fuzzy story of strength and redemption, I should tell you that this is not one. I just untangled the leash from around my legs, tied my shoe, shoved my headphones back in my ears, and finished my drippy, crabby run with a bad attitude.