This morning I was woken by the cats at 4:30am with their regularly scheduled playfight. They tend to start flailing themselves across the hardwood floor of the hallway about that time. It sounds like someone tossing a fur-lined bag of meat into a wooden shipping container.<\/p>\n

Regardless, I was awake. While I waited for sleep to come back to me I hopped on my iPhone and checked out various social mediums. Two people I know on Facebook are preparing for marathons. These two are both people I’d think were the last to actually go out and get sweaty – one being a bookworm I’ve known since high school and the other an IT professional who writes on the side. Couchy potatoey types training for a marathon at the same time. Huh. Weird.<\/p>\n

I flip over to my blog feeds and see that Don (StudioYVR<\/a> – who has modeled his blog after the Apple site – trez trendy) is prepping for no less than 11 marathons next year.<\/p>\n

I can’t even schedule my next Doritos run. Oh yes I can. Usually at 7pm every night.<\/p>\n

And as I thought about these people getting out there and just doing it<\/em>, SharkBoy rolls over and hugs me. His hand slips under my gut.<\/p>\n

Le Sigh. I haven’t been on my bike in a while and the gym membership has been on hold since the strike\/Workshare summer. I’ve gained about 10lbs in the last couple months. With the impending Pig Trough on the Ocean vacation coming up (swimsuits – yikes…), I decided it was time to get back into it. And that there was no better time to start than right at that moment.<\/p>\n

5am and I lean into SharkBoy’s sleeping face: “I’m going for a run.” I whisper.<\/p>\n

“Really?” The word “really” sounded more like “You’re fucking kidding me.”<\/p>\n

I start with stretches out in the back parking lot behind the apartment. George Hamilton 2, the neighbour’s cat who looks like our George Hamilton, greets me as I grunt to touch my toes. In the silence of the morning I can hear… a lot of cats meowing, either to be let in or just because that’s the time they all sing. Or they’re fucking. Cats. Go figure.<\/p>\n

I set off towards Riverdale Park at a decent trot. I’m mindful of how my feet are landing and that I’m not clenching my fists. I loosen my shoulders and breathe deep. Within a half block I am wheezing like an asthmatic who has just had a massive roll of $20s thrust into his hand and has been walked into a stripper bar. I manage a half block walk, half block jog as I run around Cabbagetown. Over my gasps for air I hear… nothing. The drone of the DVP in the valley and the odd car going down Parliament Street. After a good 30 minutes I decide to return home.<\/p>\n

As an added bonus to myself I ran by a Tim Hortons so I could breathe in donut exhaust.<\/p>\n

Will I continue? I think so. Not sure how I will manage on wet or snowy days but for now, I’m not hating it. It’s actually fun.<\/p>\n

At home I jump back onto the Wii Fit. “Really?” it says.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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