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.


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.


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…


Water, Water, Everywhere…

My fitness ordeal…er… journey continues.

Today marks six months since I started, and everything in my last post still holds true but now I am adding water to my list of gripes. Yes, water.

There was a time not so long ago when I could (and would) easily consume six 20 ounce Cokes in a single day. I got up drinking Cokes and I went to bed drinking Cokes and how I even still have teeth is anyone’s guess. In fact, getting Invisalign is what helped me kick that habit. If you don’t know, you have to remove your Invisalign trays any time you eat or drink anything that isn’t plain water, so having to always take the trays out and put them back in was a.) bothersome, b.) slightly disgusting because of the ropes of saliva that always seemed to cling to them, and c.) painful… so I put the kibosh on that. At first I went to Sprite because it was clear and wouldn’t stain my teeth or my Invisalign trays and I thought I was really winning. But there is as much sugar in Sprite as there is in Coke, so it was still getting trapped in my trays and doing God only knows what kind of damage to my teeth, so I quit Sprite, too.

“I should drink water,” I groaned to anyone who would ask.

“I love water!” they would declare, and I would roll my eyes.

What kind of person loves water? It tastes like nothing, and I would point that out, but they were ready with “I love the taste of water!” And that’s when I knew they were full of shit. If your water has a taste, you need to stop drinking it immediately and get it checked out.

I’ve never liked the taste of water, and that is why I’ve never been very keen on drinking it. As a kid, Kool-Aid was my poison and I liked the tropical punch flavor the best, and I added so much sugar it was basically red syrup. We would have Coke on occasion back then, but they were more expensive than they are now (thank you, high fructose corn syrup!) and usually reserved for such rare occasions as birthday parties or holiday parties at school. Another favorite was sweet tea, and like the syrupy Kool-Aid, I wanted it so thick with sweetness that it had legs the way wine or liquor has legs. My grandfather liked it the same way, so I probably got my sugar gene from him. I’m not complaining. (Side note: one of my favorite “meals” when I was younger was a sleeve of saltines and a glass of sweet tea. Bonus points if I spread butter on the crackers.)

But I’m not as young as I used to be, and I’m not getting any younger and, braces aside, I don’t need to consume that much sugar on a daily basis for a variety of reasons.

So I quit and I started drinking water and, like exercising five to six days a week, I hate it. I hate every fucking drop of water I drink every day, and I have committed myself to drinking a gallon a day. That’s a lot of hate, but I am committed to it.

“Put some lemon in it!” people tell me. These are the same people who always want to know if I feel so much better now that I’m working out and eating properly.

No, Ashley Amber, I don’t want to slice a fucking lemon and put that in my water and pretend it tastes like lemonade. That’s absurd. And lying to yourself and other people and saying that you like lemon in your water is also absurd. We know you’re lying. And your boyfriend is lying when he tells you he likes it, too. He’s just saying that because he wants to have sex with you. I don’t want to have sex with you, so I’ll tell you what water with lemon tastes like: it tastes like water that someone told a story about a lemon to. In fact, if you left the lemon out, it would literally taste the exact same because nothing happens when you put a slice of lemon in your water. Maybe if you took a drink of water then bit into a wedge of lemon and chased that with a gulp of water you’d taste it, but that’s a lot of work and I can tell you now that it’s a lot less fun doing that with water than it is with tequila and switching out the lemon for a lime.

Cucumber is another thing these basic white girls have convinced themselves just transforms water into something else entirely. “It’s so refreshing!” they crow, mispronouncing their vowels because that’s what the Kardashians do. Fuck that noise. It’s a cucumber in your water, and water is already bad enough. You know what will transform water? A packet of tropical punch Kool-Aid and 6 cups of sugar. Anything less than that will just taste like tears of disappointment.

But here I am, slamming back a gallon of it a day because that is what “they” say you should do. “They” are the people in the sky, I suppose. “They” never have names, because if “they” had names, you might hunt “them” down and beat “them” with a bag of lemons and an empty water bottle. I wake up at the crack of dawn and walk to the gym (Hey! Steps!) and I come home and fill my water bottles and I start drinking. I actually drink more than a gallon (135.2 ounces), but it’s easier to say a gallon. My skin is dewy and my complexion is clear and my lips are soft and full and pouty… but I go to the bathroom about fifty times a day (again…steps!)

“It really fills you up!” declares Ashley Amber, but the only thing she’s full of is shit. You’re full for about two minutes, then you go piss it all out. I get half my 20K steps in every day just running back and forth to the bathroom, and I have to plan water intake and driving anywhere because there’s no way I can be en route when the urge to go hits me. It comes fast and it comes hard.

Oh, and all that bullshit “they” always say about drinking water will help maintain a healthy weight? Don’t believe a word of it. You drink and you piss and you’re starving and you eat and your weight stays the same, and it’s always five to ten pounds more than you want it to be. That’s what happens when you drink water.

But I drink it anyway, because what if I’m wrong and “they” are right? What if I drink all this water for exactly the right number of days and wake up one morning and I am a Calvin Klein underwear model? I can’t risk it, so I drink the water.

And now excuse me, but I gotta go take a leak.