So I was sitting at my desk working on figuring out what an antenna looks like and how to determine what values I need to synthesize an antenna load... basically while I was sitting at my desk doing work, I realized that I needed a shower.
Whenever I decide to take a shower it usually crosses my mind that I should work out so that I actually NEED a shower. This time I decided on running for some crazy reasoning. Basically Alysa infected my mind with the idea of running last night and I was curious if my leg was healed enough from its injury for me to actually run. So I changed into my short shorts, decided not to wear a shirt, stretched for about 30 seconds, grabbed my awesome $75 dollar watch that I won at a race (and which hasn't been used in forever) and walked out the door. Go me.
As I casually jogged the 20 steps to the loop I wondered if I wanted to run the short route (1.1 miles around the road on campus in the middle of the day without a shirt and a very real potential to be slow with everyone getting out of class looking at me and judging me for being fat) or the long route (~2.3 miles around the outside of campus. I decided to run the long route. Go me.
I push it hard up the hill and I'm striding out and I feel great and I go past a few people walking and I feel real good because I'm going decently fast and I've been hitting the weight room three times a week (and I'm a senior so I really could care less what they think). Right when I turn off the loop onto the long route I feel some twinges in my shins and I have a hint of concern that this may be a difficult run. 150 meters later, 5 minutes into the run, I realize that I definitely bit off way more than I could chew. But I decide I was definitely gonna swallow it anyways. Go me.
I make it all the way around the baseball fields and then 10 minutes into the run I realize that I haven't run a mile in over a year. Thankfully by this time I was out of sight of the baseball players because my stride was drastically shortening. About this time I remember why I didn't do certain things during the cross country season that I do all the time now. Things like drinking soda and eating ice cream. Those two things directly correspond to my ability to breathe and the intensity of pain in my legs. I decide not to cut straight back to my apartment and to finish the route. Go me.
After 13 minutes I'm on the last straightaway back to my apartment and my stomach feels ready to implode and I am definitely extremely happy that no one can see my fatness chugging along the back fence. I finished in 16:47 and I am pretty sure that was the worst decision of my life. At least there is no doubt that I need a shower now.
