Running with the Devil

(The following is the official transcript from my last run.)

I can do this.

It’s kind of cold this morning, though. I should have worn pants…

Oh, wait… *stops* *sets Fitbit to Run* Okay, there… Yeah, it’s cold. Maybe I should run inside and put pants on. *stops again* *gazes longingly at the house* But I’ve never run in pants before… I might get a rash. I might get too hot and I won’t be able to take them off… I’ll just go on…

*starts running again*

Why is my knee hurting already? Fuck… I haven’t even gone ten feet…

Maybe it’s arthritis. Or rheumatism. Or multiple epiphyseal dysplasia… Okay, never mind… it doesn’t hurt now. I’m sure it’ll hurt again later, though. Like, I’m sure halfway through, it’ll be so excruciating I’ll just collapse onto the pavement and have to crawl back home because it’s still dark out and the sun doesn’t come up for another hour and no one will see me there, writhing in agony because I blew my knee out.

Or maybe I’ll be run over…

This isn’t so bad, though. I mean, it is, but not as bad as the first time. That fucking sucked. But I can do this… If I ran more often, it would get easier, I know. I’ll run again tomorrow. Or not.

Man, it’s cold.

And dark. Okay, here comes this fucking hill. I can do this.

*starts up hill*

Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life.

Okay… okay… That wasn’t so bad. Just keep going. I can do this. I’m not going to die. Just keep going…

*checks Fitbit for heart rate*

Holy mother of fuck! 615??? MY HEART RATE IS 615??? How is that even possible? Am I having a stroke?

Wait… Wait… That’s just the time. Oh, thank God… I’m not dying. It’s not a stroke…

*checks Fitbit again*

Okay… 148… that’s more like it. I can live with that. Shit, it’s cold… I’m wearing pants next time, I don’t care. Oh, good… it’s the downhill part. This is easy…

*trips going down the hill, stumbles, manages to stay upright*

What the hell was that? I could have died! Maybe it was a trap… Like the creepy redneck people who put spikes in the road to lure unsuspecting travelers in the mountains to their doom. Like, maybe there’s someone hiding in that box hedge over there, waiting for me or someone else to trip over… whatever that was… then they’ll jump out and rob us or rape us or kill us and dismember us and bury our bodies or something…

*runs faster*

Oh, hell… it’s that other hill…

*starts up hill*

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck.

Okay. Okay. That wasn’t so bad.

*checks Fitbit to see how far I’ve run*

This thing must be broken. I know I’ve gone more than a quarter of a mile!

*continues running*

God, that house is ugly. Is that shiplap? I guess shiplap has gone too far when people are putting it on the outside of their houses. And are those shutters mustard yellow? Like, really? They must not know any gay people. Oh, shit… it’s another hill… I can do this, though. I’ll go slow this time…

*starts up hill*

Yeah, no… this sucks just as bad. Who put all these fucking hills here? I hope they died. I hope they died running up one of these verkakte hills!

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!

I hate this so much.

*gets to the top of the hill*

Okay… Okay… That wasn’t so bad. I don’t even want to check my heart rate right now. Oh, and it’s getting lighter. Good. That way if I collapse, I stand a better chance of being seen and rescued.

*runs downhill*

Someone should design a course that is basically all downhill. Like skiing, only for runners. And a lift will pick you up at the bottom and carry you back to the top so you can run back down and feel successful and accomplished.

*passes Middle Eastern market*

You know, I never see any people from the Middle East running. They must be smarter than Americans.

*passes upholstery shop*

God, that chair is ugly. I mean, I’d totally sit in it right now, but I wouldn’t buy it. Who the hell pays for shit like that?

*passes bookstore*

I could have stayed at home in bed and read my book…

*passes gas station*

A Coke would be nice right now… But I left my wallet at home…

*stops running*

Okay, that’s it. I give up. Fuck this shit. I’ll walk the rest of the way…

 

3 thoughts on “Running with the Devil

  1. This was amazing!! And really, who DOES paint their shutters mustard yellow? Come on people. Get it together with your paint choices! 😂

    Bravo Zev! 👏👏👏

    Like

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