In Which I Prepare For My First 5K

So even though I've been juicing cucumbers like the 2.0 I am and staring in the mirror every morning saying: "God and a man probably love you", I hadn't actually been running much.

Enter Emily Posts. You guys know Emily, right? She's on Tumblr and is so sweet and nice and has these cute dogs and then...


she proposed that we all run a 5K in a few weeks. A bunch of people joined (you disgust me, you fitness types!) and Emily even told me about a 5K I could join here in LA.

(UGH LA! I hate you, what with your fit people and delicious burgers and HILLS!)

But I signed up. Even as it crashed my computer, which I took to believe is a sign from Steve Gods Jobs that OBVIOUSLY I SHOULD NOT DO THIS.

I paid the fee and I've been "running" ever sine.

Here's a breakdown of me "running".

Minute 1: "Oh, cool. I can do this. Yo, I can totally do this. BITCHES CAN'T STOP ME!"

Minute 5: "Why is...why...this hurts."

Minute 10: "LUPUS DON'T OWN ME. YOU WIN, KELLY! You are a hero! OMG WHERE IS THE EMERGENCY STOP BUTTON?"

Minute 15: (The hallucinations begin) "George Clooney is at the end of my treadmill. I can see Lake Como! And his arms are open, waiting for me!"

Minute 19: "One minute until I'm George's!"

Minute 19 and a half: "I may have a thing for old guys. File this for therapy later."

Minute 21: "George, I'm here!"

And then I collapse on the treadmill. If there's other fitness types in the gym, I skip the collapse. I immediately leave and lay down in the elevator that takes me up to my apartment.

8 more weeks, guys. Eight more until I run my first 5K and cure cancer.

They are both equally improbable.

Wish me luck.