Those of you within the vicinity of K Street yesterday may have heard an odd noise. The sound was less elephant giving birth and more porn star with laryngitis: “Oh god, oh god. You can do it. Come on, come on. Just five more minutes. Oh god.” Yes my friends, I was trying to run, yet again.
As mentioned before, I’m attempting to “Get fit or die trying,” all before my best friend’s wedding over Memorial Day weekend. Doing this has involved incredible feats of self-restraint and physical prowess. It has required me to do completely unnatural things, like lift weights and run. It’s sad to say, but sounding like a porn star with laryngitis when I run is actually a step up from the animal sounds that I made when I first started running.
To answer the question foremost on your mind, I am still alive; the workout routine has not killed me yet. I am comforted by the fact that if I were to die while running (which is entirely possible), that View from Dupont has already agreed to guest blog on this site with a more heroic sounding ending for me. Instead of telling you that I expired while attempting to chase down the taco truck (Yes, such a thing does exist, think ice cream truck, only with delicious gringofied Mexican entrees. Oh the day I catch you taco truck, oh the day…), View from Dupont would weave a heroic tale of me dying while saving the earth from disaster. She has been instructed to rip off Jerry Bruckheimer liberally, which means I will likely die saving the world from asteroids, or pirates, or ninjas, or maybe asteroids, pirates, and ninjas.
Anyways, back to the sweaty subject at hand. “Get fit or die trying” has gone well so far, but I’m still a way away from the goal I set for myself. If I have to, I will turn to crazy ideas like taking crack, or jumping the fence at the National Zoo and trying to outrun the tigers (nothing like fear to get the old heart pumping!) in order to burn the additional pounds off.
Overall though, I am happy with the results so far. A pair of jeans that a few months ago used to fit snugly now requires a belt to stay up. A pair of shorts that last summer I had to perform various Houdini like contortions to get into, now fits perfectly again. When I show up at the wedding a month and a half from now, I plan to confidently stroll into the church in my newly refitted tux. A few hours later at the reception, I will confidently stroll onto the dance floor, and then proceed to destroy my reputation by attempting to “get down.” Oh, I cannot wait!