So I’m doing this 0-5km thing that I downloaded as an app on my iPhone. Lately I’ve been working out with a goal to at least get in a hard 30 minuets of cardio three days a week. And sweet mother slabbing fuck does it suck. Except those work outs, as much as they made me suck air, seemed like they had to real drive behind them. So this is where my new app comes into play. Again, sweet mother slabbing fuck does it suck. It’s 35 minuets with a 5 minuet walking warm up and then intervals where you walk a minuet and a half and then run for a minuet six times and finish with a five minuet cool down and then you stretch. Literally it’s 6 minuets of running out of the whole 35 minuet ordeal. It sucked, but it felt so frickin’ good at the end.
I walked out of my house, all dressed up in my basketball shorts, running long sleeve thing and sports bra and walked out into my drive way while I configurated my iPhone to run the 0-5km app while my running play-list and thusly moments later the ordeal started. First there was construction happening on my side of the street so I wound up playing in traffic for a few seconds as I ran out into the clogged traffic of my street. A few horns honked, but I totally pretended that they were because I was looking so damn fine and not because I’d just run out in front of a moving vehicle that was stopped and stuck in traffic. It was raining and because my boobs are so darn big, water immediately began to trickle down between them, so I had to zip the zipper of my running long sleeve thingy up to keep my tata’s from getting soaked.
I’m not going to lie. I love the rain. During my warm up I stomped in every puddle I walked near and even went out of my way to jump in a big puddle in the middle of the street. So yeah, I played in traffic a little bit more because this puddle was too awesome to turn down. I got to the park I was planning to do the bulk of my running in because it has this big grassy field that surrounds a basketball court that no one ever uses during the time of day that I work out. At the end of my first minuet of running, my eyes were stinging and I had to keep blinking because it was either raining that hard or I was already pouring sweat. I can definitely say that it was for surely raining that hard, but I can also for surely say that I was already pouring sweat because the stuff getting in my eyes stung. But whatever, the first minuet passed by quickly and I figured that life wouldn’t be that bad with this work out.
Just before the second minuet of running started one of my favorite booty shaking songs came on. Except I don’t shake my booty when I run, so I ran to the beat of the song, figuring that this minuet would be over quickly like the last one. Which it wasn’t. When I walked I walked quickly and kept up a super good pace because I was damn determined to get in a hard 35 minuet work out. And by walking at a super good pace, I made sure that all my jiggle parts jiggled because then I knew that I was really moving. I’m a big girl, but it still takes a little bit of work to make me jiggle and boy did I make myself jiggle when I walked. Which meant that minuet two of my run, I was slightly winded from all the jiggling and about twenty seconds in I was sucking air and debating walking through my next run interval. Then I kicked myself in the twat for thinking that. I was going to win this work out and I was going to win it without cheating.
But sweet monkey paw soup! Running minuet three was harder. My jiggly bits had been jiggling solidly since I’d started the work out. My boobs were trying to escape my sports bra and slap me in the face and knock me out. I considered the fact that my boobs were so big that that biggest sports bra I could find couldn’t handle my massive tata’s and decided that it was a good thing that I was trying to get back into shape again. Maybe my tits would shrink down small enough to fit into my sports bras and would no longer try to escape the confines of my over the shoulder boulder holders and knock me out cold with the sheer size of them.
Running minuet four I was counting as I breathed. It was a trick my skinny-arsed younger sister and I used to do when we’d run together in high school. We’d count as we ran to keep our minds off the fact that we were running. She was always there to push me because I’ve always sucked as a runner. She was there to count with me in two’s and three’s as I struggled to breathe and keep running as long as my leggy sibling could. I felt homesick for that entire minuet as I wished my sister was there to count with me. But I was totally beating this work out into submission. I was winning. I was full of win as the end of running minuet four came to an end. It was glorious! My legs felt like there were going to give out, but I punched the air in triumph and told my jiggly bits that we were so close to being done and told my legs to suck it up. This was end game! We were pushing for the win. The score was something close to something close and I was one point behind and all I needed was to push a little harder to score that last basket and win work out 1 of the 0-5k app on my phone.
Running minuet five was a sheer force of will. I stayed stubborn. I pushed myself to keep running. And by running I mean I was barely moving faster than a walk, but I was pumping my legs, breathing hard and I was drenched from the rain. Well, rain and sweat. Both were pouring down my face, soaking and plastering my clothes to my body and I swear all the liquid had soaked into my boobs and they’d grown another cup size.
Finally it happened. My phone announced that I should start running minuet six. I wasn’t going to finish this like a puss. I was finishing hard. I drove my feet into the ground and my knees into the air and I ran like I’d stolen something. And I know what it feels like to run like you’ve stolen something because I’ve stolen enough lawn gnomes and had to bolt out of enough back yards to avoid getting caught. I ran like there was a bigger girl chasing me up a rugby field, ready to snap me to the ground if she caught me. I ran like I used to when my basketball coach used to yell at me to push myself a little harder. I kept thinking that I CAN’T FINISH THIS MINUET and I could hear my Uncle Phil telling me there was no such thing as CAN’T. Every inch of me was drenched in a mixture of sweat and rain and I forced myself to increase my stride and sprint the last seconds of my minuet.
And then…it was over. I didn’t have to run like I stole something because I’d escaped. The basketball coach that was in my head had blown the whistle to stop. I knew there was no such thing as CAN’T because I just DID. I was full of mother fucking win and I had owned these six minuets of running. My boobs hadn’t escaped my bra and I had bent this work out over and spanked it hard in the end. I’m not in the shape that I used to be, but I know after this work out I can keep going and eventually I will be able to look over my shoulder and say in the famous words of Cher, “FOLLOW THIS YOU BITCHES!”
And then I remembered that I’m going to do this all over again on Friday. But whatevs, right? I’m either going to kick this apps ass or I’m going to die trying and who cares if I die tired? At least I died having fist pumped the air because today I ran like I stole something and it was awesome.