So I just bought my 5th pair of running shoes. Who knew, that me, a guy who wore the same shoes for 5 years until I literally wore through the soles until you could see my socks peaking out the bottom would eventually be buying a new pair of shoes about every 6 months. It all started with this stupid running thing. Really, a few years ago, I was the guy that swore I would only run if something were chasing me. Even then, it would have to be something with lots of fur, sharp pointy teeth, razor claws and probably some pretty hanus drool. At this point, I would attempt to run from said creature, only to have my heart explode, my legs fall off, and then I would die a horrible sharp, pointy, drooly death. I was resolved to this fact. I knew my fate, if perchance, I were to happen upon a creature and I was okay with that. Then I met Princess and Biker #2, the runners. (I know that Biker #2 implies a cyclist, and she does cycle, but her primary sport is running.) They were convinced that they could turn me into a runner. Princess would state that he used to say the same thing, that he would only run if the cops were chasing him. (I am less afraid of cops than I am of giant sharp drool monsters, FYI.) Eventually they wore me down and I decided to try to do a 5k. 3.1 miles. This was further than I had ever run in my life, but it seemed like an obtainable goal. Okay, well, not really. I had never even run the full mile in school because I had no idea of how to properly pace myself or to run properly so I would sprint the first 100 ft, get out of breath and say screw it and walk/jog the rest of the mile and complain the whole way about how stupid it was. So, a 5k. Why not? What is the worst that could happen? I needed a plan, so I grabbed my smartphone and found the “Couch to 5k” app. “The idea is to transform you from...
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