JOGGING: Perspective of a Lazy Bastard

It's shite.

Really.

You see people doing it. Quite regularly in fact, at all hours and in all weathers, and your first thought is that they're insane. Go with your gut on this.

But at some point you experience your own moment of madness that presents as one of clarity, and you imagine it might be an idea with legs (!).
Defeat this nonsense at once. Quash it with extreme prejudice. If you don't it'll keep coming back to you and eventually, eventually, you'll stumble upon a window of freedom where none of your excuses hold water - no time/I've just eaten/it's raining/I haven't eaten yet/it's too hot/Game of Thrones is ju- Bollocks! I can watch that anytime/etc. etc.

And you will find yourself out pounding tarmac like you had three more sets of box-fresh knees in the back of a cupboard somewhere.

My drawing's awesome. Ikem Personalities #1 & #3 are always saying so.

And if you're anything like me (male, hopelessly vain) you will also find yourself in the suicide position. This is where you spy two delectable-looking females walking ahead of you and despite the burgeoning arrhythmia in your chest, there'll be an unstoppable urge to fly past them, knees up and calves pumping, with a look of serene disinterest on your face.
If you're lucky, you'll make it round a corner and feel like throwing up. If you're not, well, I'm sure the ladies will be kind enough to summon an ambulance on your idiotic behalf.

And is it just me that considers it a dreadfully lonely pursuit?
Sure, people go running 'together'.
If someone offered me that opportunity, I'd probably reply something along the lines of "Thanks. But I'd prefer to be depressed about my level of fitness in private if it's all the same to you."

Seriously. Go swimming instead.

Love,

Ikem.