Meet the trainer, the motivator, the culprit, the marathon man. He's not nice to me. He has awakened muscles that chose to hibernate back in the early 1970's, so naturally, they are roaring, like a bear. I'm even grunting as though I have been in hibernation. Then, after he beats me up with this "work out" (which, for me, should be called a "knock out")...not only do I have to deal with aches and shakes, I also have massive hunger pains.
Someone feed the bears!
The marathon is 6 months away. This is my "before" shot. I thought you would want to see what I look like before I start trimming the treads off my shoes. Mostly, I have been walking, jogging, wheezing, cussing and then laying in people's bushes, but that is ok, I will make it a tenth of a mile, I can feel it. My trainer makes fun of people with those "ridiculous 13.1 stickers" on their car window. Don't tell him, but when I finish this, half marathon, I am air brushing that number on my car, with glitter and flames, in hot pink, down both sides. Because if I am going to work this hard to run down some street with an insane amount of other people sweating, wheezing and wearing (gag) athletic gear....I deserve a hallelujah, amen, you go gurrrrlllll.
I might even put some chrome wheels on...low ride that biach and put a florescent light underneath...and Trainer Dude, I WILL be picking you up in my pimpin' ride on marathon day, prepare yo'self..........................fool!
That's one small step for mankind; one GIANT LEAP for Charisse!!!!!
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