Why Running is Bad for Your Health

I ran today and nobody was chasing me. I can't explain it, but there was a moment of weakness when I thought that I could exercise and live to tell about it.

I'm so envious of people who eat their grassfed beef and their all-organic vegetables just before a quick 5-mile jog around the neighborhood. I'm more of a pizza dipped in Ranch dressing and watching American Idol kind of girl.

So let's get to the root of my health quest, shall we? Vanity. Good old fashioned vanity. People who eat healthy and workout just look better than the rest of us. One word: Madonna. How many 53-year-olds look like her? Exactly one.

And speaking of Madonna, celebrities are my favorite excuse. If I had a team of people making me look good, I could look good, too. I'm just a personal trainer, chef, hair stylist, makeup artist, nanny, personal assistant, and in-home gym away from perfection. Throw in a good plastic surgeon and I'm perfection plus one. Or two, you know, depending on the procedure.

I always complain that I don't have enough time to workout, but I make time for other things like eating, shopping, eating, watching the Bachelor, and eating. And if devoted as much time to working out as I do to Facebook, I'd weigh 88-pounds by now.

So I woke up today determined to change that. I was going to make time for exercise. So I thought I'd start off with a run. You know, something easy.

I love runners. They're so awesome, aren't they? And their outfits are so cute. I love those tight black running pants are like Spanx that you wear without clothes over them and nobody judges you. And I'm all for anything that turns my full-size muffin top into Little Bites.

I also needed some new shoes before I started running - not because mine were worn out or anything (insert canned audience laughter here) - because they were out of date.

I bought my last pair of running shoes in 1999. No, ladies and gentlemen, that was not a typo. The first time that you heard Britney Spears on the radio and watched Haley Joel Osment say "I see dead people" was the last time that I ran.

Finally, it was go time. I was doing fine at first. Oh, who am I kidding? I was doing better than fine. I owned that street, y'all. I was gettin' in stride and wavin' to my neighbors. Yes... I'm a runner.... that's what I do....  I run. 

But then - oh, I don't know - somewhere around 30 paces, it got harder.

My heart was pounding so hard that I thought it might jump out of my chest and search for a new host who appreciated the beauty of processed foods and reality TV. If a cardiologist had been running beside me, he would have prescribed Plavix right there on the spot.

Thanks, Pinterest!  I couldn't have said it better myself.

I've always heard about that "runner's high". Is that how you feel just before you pass out? If so, I felt it.

AND HOW DO YOU KEEP YOUR BUTT CHEEKS FROM SLAPPING YOUR THIGHS? It's quite distracting, and not to mention, almost painful. I want to invent a new kind of jock strap that keeps a woman's flabby arse from attacking her cottage cheese thighs while she's workin' on her fitness. I'm talking billion dollar industry here, people.

While I was running, every Little Debbie and Dunkin Donut that I've ever eaten filled up my calves, because suddenly, my legs weighed 3,000 pounds, each. I could barely get them off the pavement. I think I left skid marks and I'm not just talking about when I almost crapped my pants.

Hey, remember that "better than fine runner" at the beginning of this story? Well, now I looked a little bit more like Forest Gump as Jenny was shouting, "RUN, AMANDA, RUN".

Those adorable black pants were embarrassed to be seen on my slapping butt cheeks. My Nikes cried tiny, little tears and begged to go back to Footlocker. My pounding heart slowly whispered, "pizza... American Idol... pizza... American Idol..."  

I'm sure it was funny to watch, if you weren't the one looking ridiculous at the time. I wanted to laugh so bad, but I couldn't spare the oxygen. I needed every last breath to stay upright. It was pure Darwinism at that point.

So unfortunately, my first run didn't go as planned. I didn't earn my 26.2 or my 13.1 sticker for the back of my SUV today, but I think I've got the .3 sticker in the bag.

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