I went for a run last night, and accidentally ran six miles. I say accidentally because I did not want to run six miles, I wanted to run four. And, actually, if we're being truthful, I wanted to run zero. And I wanted to lay in bed with a laptop in my lap and update my Twitter, but we'll just stick with "I wanted to run four miles."
An aside: "update my Twitter" just made me snicker. I am juvenile.
I figured, as my last night out in the country, I'd take the scenic route back home.
"Meh! It won't be that far. Four miles, give or take some steps."
No. No, that wasn't true at all. Because I was at four miles and in the middle of nowhere thinking, "Shit. I am not home."
And, because it was approximately thirteen-hundred degrees outside, I was also sweating. Swimming through the air. Eating bugs. Getting major chafing on my inner thighs.
What? I chafe, OK. That's what happens when you weigh 1** pounds and you sweat and your shorts bunch up and it's uncomfortable and DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT! You'd chafe too, dammit. My thighs touch. Deal with it.
So, where was I?
Meanwhile, I'm miserable. And hot. And a bug flew into my eye. I stopped to rub the shit out of my left eye to no avail. I could feel him in there, all festering and making a home.
So now I have a festering insect in my eye, a raw inner thigh AND I'm sweating. (This all spells S-E-X-Y, by the way). And before I know it, I ran six miles.
I had to walk bowlegged up the driveway and into the house because by this point my thigh was BLEEDING. Real blood. That is how raw it was. And I still had a bug in my brain.
I woke up this morning to a goobery eye. Real goobers. In my eye. Like, green and oozy and red. I probably have a colony of bugs in my socket. AND my thigh continues to ooze pain. True story: there is ooze on my PANTS. My chafe stained my pants.
I AM SO GROSS.
You want to know why I run? Do you? Because it's HOT. That's why.