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Chuckles

I hate running

One of my least favourite things in the world is running. I really hate doing it. I wish it had never been invented.

I only do it because it’s free exercise and without it I would be even curvier than I already am.

My guilty conscience is telling me that I need to go on a run today – it’s been a few days since I last exercised, and it’s going to be too hot later in the week (35 degrees!) to even contemplate any outdoor exertion. So it has to be today.

But it’s so hard to make myself go, because I know what will happen. Within minutes my face will be so red and sweaty that it’ll look like I’ve been stewed. My running style will be so bad that other runners will look at me with a mixture of pity and disgust. Members of the public will wonder why anyone ever goes running when I make it look so hard.

If you don’t believe me, take a look at this selfie, taken just after my last run:

Emma after running
Emma after running

That run was only 3.5 miles (and was very slow because I can never run fast, even when I’m being chased) – yet my face is drenched in sweat, I’m red as a beetroot, and there’s a blister on my foot.

I know today’s run won’t be any better.

I’m really dreading going.

Maybe I just won’t go?

No one’s making me.

I’m not training for anything.

I could just not go 🙂

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*UPDATE*

Believe it or not, I did actually go running after all that! First of all I put on my running clothes, then I wandered around a bit saying ‘I don’t want to go running’ and trying to decide if I had a sore throat and/or leg. But then, in the words of Nike (sort of), I ‘just did it’.

And miraculously, it wasn’t as bad as I dreaded it would be!