to the future with

Yesterday I went running! Runnin runnin' ru-runnin' running

That's what my heart sounds like when I start running; confidant, then dulls to a murmur, then kind of just sputters ft ft ft ft ptp...

But! I did run more and with a better pace than I thought I would!
So that was something! A very little something but something none the less.
I did almost reach that point of running when you hit your stride and it feels like you can just keep going.
It was nice.
I stopped thinking about things; like hey there's a hot guy without his shirt on, or hey there is another hot guy without his shirt on playing futbol (<----fuck soccer; it's futbol mothafuckaz) wow he has a defined body, or that guy running in front of me has a nice little b-b-bounce to his s-s-step, or look at the guy with a workout outfit of AMERICAN APPAREL (soooooomeone's bougie), or is that a the red ranger or is it just a really sunburned ginger without his shirt on? (it was the latter)

So, I think it goes without saying this was kinda a horny run that I had going on...

But then I almost hit my moment, my perfect running moment, that I used to be able to obtain, and all I was thinking about was my breathing and the wind and my strides and how my hands are positioned and sure I can run one more lap! what's one more lap? So I ran that one more lap and stopped. Because, I probably woulda felt not great the next day if I pushed my body further than what it's capable of doing (for now).

So I did my stretchinz' and PUSH UPS the walked on home.

Then I ate a burger, fries and some coleslaw with like 3beerz...





Glad I went on that run!

your excellent health and your cruelty

Yesterday, I did something completely out of the ordinary. I did something.
I put on my shorts (my non shorty short shorts, I was surprised I even had those!) and laced up my sneakz, stuffed myself into a wrinkly ole white t-shirt and I left my apt.

I went on a...what's that word? I hadn't done it in so long that I've forgotten the term for it. It has or at least had been windex'd from my memory. All the booze 'n' hard livin' having demolished any recognition of physical activity not involving bad for you life choices.
It's not walking; well, it's like walking but faster. But it isn't, oh I'm late to work, need to get the train, fast, it's more even paced and you end up breathing a lot harder, and sweating...there's a lot of sweating. Running! That's what I did, I moved my fat stubby legs and ran.

I ran to the park, I ran at the park and I ran home. I did three separate runnins!

Whilst I courais, I thought to myself "I didn't even know the french word for run!" and also "wow, I'm woefully out shape." My body has turned the consistency of stale dough, not entirely soft but definitely shapeless.

So, corriendo, I thought about other things like;
I like running, I hate running, running is fun and running is for saps and losers and why why why am I doing this, why do my lungs burn so bad? oh god are those my shins? when did gravity get so heavy? and why am I hallucinating that there is a giant squirrel doing push ups while a unicorn sits on his back and whittles at a stick!?...........?

So many thoughts running (get it!) through my already inflammed brain matter it was creating so much pressure in my skull thatIi had no choose but to stop.

and I stopped and stretched and a ran home and I stretched there too.

And I breathed in and out, in and out; collapsing into myself I thought




what a mess