Running on Empty

After two months of eating whatever I want, sitting on my behind and feeling very sorry for myself, I got up and went for a run. My body basically said, "What the fuck are you doing you crazy bitch?" in a very surprised and concerned tone. The damn treadmill faced the damn mirror so I could see the extent to which I had let myself go. Let me just say in workout clothes I'm somewhere between not bad and Anna Nicole. At one point my left hamstring up and quit. I mean it put on it's houndstooth hat, picked up it's briefcase and walked out. I read somewhere that if you inhale for three steps and exhale two steps, there is less stress on joints. So as I breathe I count:

"(Inhale) One, Two, Three! (Exhale) Four, Five..."

...and I just zone out.

I do love to run, but I hate being out of shape.