Run?

Here's something you should know about me: I hate running.

No really. I am not exactly the most athletic person out there, and something about running makes me just want to vomit. Sometimes literally.

But the other day I woke up at 4:45 in the morning. I stared at my ceiling for a little while, counted some sheep, organized my sock drawer (no really), and then I played some Call of Duty. Then all of sudden it was kinda light outside, and I had too much hyper energy to be sitting around playing a video game. Plus there's only so much of Black Ops I can take before it stresses me out too much.

the bad guys aren't sympathetic with my need to take mini-panic attack breaks.

So I dressed up in a winsomely striking outfit of pink and blue leopard-spotted spandex tights, blue and green running shoes, and my periwinkle blue rugby sweatshirt. Needless to say, I was quite fetching. And then I went for a run.

In case you missed the first part of this post due to some sort of strange anomaly, let me reiterate: I really hate running. But I did it anyway, because it's supposed to be good for you or some shit like that.

And honestly, it wasn't that bad. I mean, the running part was pretty horrible. But being out in the early morning by myself, in the chilled dark, my breath puffing out in front of me, listening to Mumford & Sons' winsome banjo...

I love this. So much.

It was actually kinda nice.

Now don't get too ahead of yourself and assume I've become a runner. But maybe I'll start to enjoy it more often from now on.

And here's the thing about being up so early - I see other people that are up, and I wonder what the heck they're doing out and about. Or, for example, there is somebody in my apartment building that thunders down the stairs every morning at about 4:30. Where are you going? Why are you in such a hurry? And why are you running around at 4 in the morning?

I am strangely possessive of my early mornings. I don't like it when other people usurp them.

Mine!