Word Sprint #3

I know it's been a while since I've written, and that's because I've been in the Japanese countryside for the past couple of weeks. The first weekend was with my church as a part of the youth ministry. We pretty much played in the snow and learned more about our selves in the context of God and Christianity as well as our strengths. This past week I was in Hakuba where I skied and watched movies. So, as you can see, there hasn't been a lot of time to write. Today I'm going to talk about what I did today though.



About an hour and a half ago, I decided that it would be a good idea to run for about 30 minutes. While I was running and listening to music, I thought of the phrase, "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels." Whomever said this obviously hasn't ever tasted cake, or any junk food for that matter.

The thing about this phrase is that it just makes me feel horrible in general. I mean, look at me; I'm not the skinniest person ever, and there's no doubt that I don't feel comfortable in my own body. I'm insecure while my parents tell me that I shouldn't be. Not only this, but they tell me to exercise more, which contradicts their whole spiel about being comfortable in my own body. But I'm not here to rant about my parents. My point is that you should ignore statements like, "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels." It'll just make you feel horrible about yourself. You don't need to do anything to make me like you more, so just consider that the next time that you want to overexercise or under-eat.

Now that I'm done with that, here's my run:

I step onto the treadmill, fumbling around with my phone to turn the music on. The deep voice of Dr. Death fills my ears as he takes me into the first song on the playlist. 

Drugs, gimme drugs, gimme drugs
I don't need it, but I'll sell what you got
Take the cash and I'll keep it
Eight legs to the wall
Hit the gas, kill them all
And we crawl, and we crawl, and we crawl
You be my detonator

My feet hit the belt as I nudge the speed and incline up little by little. 30 minutes on the clock. 29 minutes. The time crawls by agonizingly slowly as my thighs begin to feel the burn; The result of not running in a few months. 'Maybe I should run more often.' I think to myself. I dismiss the thought and focus on the new song that has come on. 

You got two black eyes from loving too hard
And a black car that matches your blackest soul
I wouldn't change ya, oh oh
Wouldn't ever try to make you leave, no
The neon coast was your sign
And the Midwest wind with Pisces rising
Wouldn't change ya, oh oh
Wouldn't ever try to make you leave, no