Feelings of Loathing an Self-Hatred

Let’s be honest: I’m more neurotic than Jesse Spano hopped up on caffeine pills. I’m so excited and so scared all at the same time!

Tonight this all came into focus as I set out on what was supposed to be a 9 mile run but ended up being a measly 6. With only three miles left, I couldn’t summon up the energy or the will to go on: I was cold, I’d gotten lost and missed the holiday lights fun run I signed up for weeks ago, the blister on my foot was killing me. I was full of excuses for not running and for the first time, I just gave in to them and stopped. Before, I missed runs because I was injured or as was the case last week injured and sick, but now I was missing runs because I simply didn’t have the will to go around the block (literally) 12 more times.

Marathon training is wearing me down like a geometry test, people, and I need either some caffeine pills or my very own A.C. Slater to get me through the next three weeks. Oh, and I’m not even losing weight! That’s right, I’m running all these freaking miles and I’m not even losing weight (I know there’s a Saved by the Bell episode about this, too). The sad part is that I really don’t feel like I’m eating a lot of anything, or eating anything really good and tasty that I know is bad for me. I had a long, hard staring contest with my peanut butter jar when I got home from work. I fumed, it beckoned, but don’t worry guys, I just said no because as Zack Morris taught me, “there’s no hope with dope.”

Or evil fattening peanut butter.


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