I'm freeeeeeee

I am officially on Spring Break!  Of course, I started off my (all-too brief) bout of freedom with a various assortment of alcoholic drinks.  And as the liquor flowed, it thankfully cleaned out my system of all the stress, bitterness, and melancholy that has been building up inside me for the last few months.  I swear to God, I feel like a new woman.  Unfortunately, a side effect to this rebirth is a pesky (and hopefully temporary) desire to eat healthy and get some exercise and actually, you know, take care of my body.  So today?  I went running.

I don't know about you, but I HATE running.  I can feel my mother shake her head in disappointment--she runs marathons practically every other weekend.  Not me.  I consider running from my car to my apartment enough exercise for one day.  I actually used to run cross-country in high school, but that's only because I was marginally good at it, thanks to the cross-training I got from copious amounts of swim practice.  But I've never enjoyed it.  First of all, it hurts.  I almost always get a cramp in my side within the first five minutes, running up hills is a killer on my legs, and I end up scrunching up my shoulders the whole time, so that by the end I'm just a tight ball of muscles.  And that's just the day of--apparently I'm not punished enough during the actual event of running, so my body continues to experience various aches and pains for days afterwards.  And you know, people talk about this mysterious "runner's high."  Guess what?  There aren't any drugs involved at all.  I know, bummer right?  No, they're talking about a chemical process that happens in your brain when you run: your body produces endorphins, which basically trick your brain into thinking that you're happy doing something so obviously masochistic.  I don't get it.  Anyway, I have to say that the worst part of running is how ridiculous I look while doing it.  I am so conscious of the fact that my thighs feel like they should be featured in those Bill Cosby Jell-O ads.  I always have a pained look on my face, due to the lack of these mysterious endorphins that my body seemingly refuses to produce.  And because I'm so short, my stubby little legs just sort of shuffle along, instead of gliding in elegant strides like every other runner.  Basically, I wish I looked like this:

    When in reality, I really look like this:

Sigh....