Running: Still Hating Life

So, after a couple weeks of running, I still pretty much hate it.  I mean, I truly hate its stinking guts.  It's awful. 

Listening to Abby telling me about how her boyfriend went on a run before his race just makes me want to pull a Tonya Harding on his Nancy Kerrigan knee.  I mean seriously.  Who the HELL RUNS BEFORE A RACE?!?!?!

Jerk. 

Makes all the rest of us look bad.  Me in particular. 

Because no matter how hard I try right now, I am not exactly getting any faster.  I will say I am going further, but we're not talking by leaps and bounds.

And then this morning on a friend's status update (which by the way, I hate the fancy Facebook update) I come across this little gem:

                                                  (And I still hate everything about it!)

And my first thought is: Jackass! I am bitter because I am a turtle and a mile is a long, long, LONG distance.  Two miles is twice as long, three sucks thrice as much and well whatever the 5K is, 3 point whatever miles, sucks even more.  And no matter what I do, a mile's measurement is never going to get shorter.  Unless somehow I can take over the world and be THE world leader, it's just not going to happen.

The only thing that is going to happen is I'm going to just have to suck it up and run more and find some kind of motivation.

Lucky for me, I came across this touching story. 

Really kid? Now you're just making me look bad.  Because not only am I crying over how touching it is that this kid had so much compassion for another athlete, he also had the ability to carry him a half mile, then continue on his damn race. 

I feel like a slug.  I better not see a double amputee on skates again today (I say again, because a couple weeks ago I met one at a hockey game for wounded warriors), or I might want to off myself, which is the same feeling I get when I run.

Basically, I'm still waiting for that so called 'runner's high' everyone's (my running friends that is) talking about.