So let’s just be clear here, I don’t like running.
If When the Zombie Apocalypse hits, I have always taken it to be a fact that I will be in the first wave to be eaten, as… I. Don’t. Like. Running. And wont do it, even if it could save me from a gruesome, chompy death.
Yet for the last 3 weeks I have gotten out of bed to run, at the UNGODLY morning hour when even the sun is like “Dude, what the fuck are you doing up? Hit the snooze bro.”… Not quite sure why I believe the sun would use the word ‘bro’, but let’s just go with it.
This all started because of puppy dog eye guilt. If you have a dog you know what I’m talking about. It’s when you get up, take the dog out for a quick pee and poo, get dressed, and leave for work. Just as you’re closing the front door behind you, you catch the shocked look in your dogs eye as he stands in the hallway that says, “WHAT THE HELL!?!? THAT’S IT!?!?!? FIVE MINUTES OUTSIDE IS ALL I GET!?!? YOU’RE GOING TO BE GONE FOR LIKE A HUNDRED HOURS!!!! YOU ARE THE FUCKIEST OF FUCK HEADS!!!! I WILL BE MAKING AMENDS FOR THIS ON YOUR SHOES… AND NOT THOSE FUCKING UGLY FLIP FLOP THINGS BY THE DOOR, NO I’M GOING FOR THE HEEL BOXES YOU HAVE STORED IN THE BACK OF THE CLOSET!! THE HIGH END SHIT, THE ONES YOU STILL HAVEN’T TOLD DAD ABOUT BECAUSE THEY COST LIKE THE SAME AS A MILLION CHEW TOYS!! SO YA, GO AHEAD AND ENJOY YOUR DAY AT WORK, ASSWIPE!!!!”
Okay my dog would never say these things to me because he loves and worships me, and he is too pure and wonderful to even know those bad words, and he would never dream of hurting my shoes. However my mind is much more of an asshole and has absolutely no problem putting those thoughts in my head… so… running.
Each morning, rain or shine, Orko and I are up and out the door. Running to the park a mile from the house, playing ball until his tongue is dragging on the grounds and exhaustion has him tipping over when he tries to lift his leg to pee, and then we run the mile back to the house.
The good news is that Orko is crazy tired by the time we get back and is usually comatose on the bed when I leave for work, plus I think I’m losing weight… which I can only assume has something to do with running 2 miles every day… weird.
if when the Zombie Apocalypse hits, I think I might survive the first wave… I mean I’m definitely toast by the second wave, but still.. not bad.