Terrible, horrible, no good, very bad three-and-a-half miles.

Ugh. Seriously.

Bad runs make me eternally hateful. And because I'm trying to look at things in a more positive light (i.e. not hateful), I simply laid flat on my back in the living room after last night's attempt at running, and said, "I'm down."

I meant down emotionally, but I suppose it was literal, too, seeing as though I was on the floor pouting.

Do you know what I look forward to? A good run. The intermission between my work day and my night of lounging in sweatpants. I also look forward to going to bed at night, but that comes later.

Yesterday I had intentions. Very good intentions to run six miles after work, in fact. My first bad decision was eating pizza for lunch. I try to be conscious of what I fuel myself with when I have good intentions to run, which is not always the case.

My second bad decision was coming home from work hungry. And then eating chips and salsa. Stupid idiot. Because do you know what's super awesome after a fistful of chips and salsa? Run-ning.

Follow that smooth move with chicken fajita jerky, and I was on a roll.

And then I was on the treadmill wanting to die. Hi! Look at me! I'm running! And full of salsa and spicy jerky! On top of the fact that my legs were just not feeling it. And I was tired, and it was snowing and God hates me, etc., etc.

It was just not happening.

I had a cramp in my side, I was full, I'm completely sick of all 3,786 songs on my iPod and I'd rather have been poking myself in the eardrum with forks than running on a treadmill.

And so I made it three-and-a-half miles. Barely. At first I made it three-fourths of a mile, and stopped to stretch. Because stretching, you know, makes up for the fact that I was running on a full tank of Mexican cuisine.

I made it another mile-and-a-half after that, and took another stretch break and tried Jason Mraz on the iPod to no avail. Somehow I made it three-and-a-half miles and called it quits. I was getting nowhere. Very slowly.

And so my perfect six-mile run was wrecked. And I decided I was a lost cause and that I'd never run again. Some call this dramatic, I call it feeling "down."

So I'm being extra cautious today and watching what I eat. I'm sticking with Old Faithful, the tuna sub. And lots of water. And I vow not to eat anything of the spicy variety before today's run.

Because if I can't make it six miles today, I give up.

Take that.