Why I Hate Running Oustide

I would like to have my previous post stricken from the record.  I hate running outside.  Sure, the fresh air and scenery are nice, but when you go out there, you are exposing yourself not just to the elements, but also to society. 

This morning I woke up, and it was quite chilly outside.  I have a long-sleeved running shirt, which fit me pretty well a few months ago but is now simply too small.  I decided that since, for the last several weeks, the streets of my neighborhood were completely abandoned when I ran in the morning, that I would just wear the shirt, because if I didn't I would be really cold.  I threw the shirt on, tied my shoes, and started my run. 

At first, things went pretty well.  I was alone.  It was dark.  The stars where shining very brightly.  It really was beautiful.  After about five minutes, however, hordes of people started coming out.  People were driving down the street, walking or riding their bikes, chit chatting on the side of the road.  Honestly, it was as if the entire community had come out to see a fat man run in a shirt that was too small for him (which, actually, given that everyone here is so skinny, may actually have been an attraction worth getting up at 5:00 to see).  Anyway, only a fat person can know how embarrassing it can be to be in ill-fitting clothes.  This is evidenced by the number of skinny people who have no idea how bad they look in certain clothes, and yet, still wear them (don't worry, this does not apply to any people I know that read this blog, well, at least most of the poeple I know that read this blog!  Just kidding!).

As I ran, I thought to myself:  "You know, it is your own fault.  You shouldn't care what other people think of you."  "Yes," I responded to myself, "but I also shouldn't wear clothes in public that don't fit me.  Even if it means freezing to death." 

As I continued running, I decided that even if I didn't look great, I could run great.  So, as I turned a corner, I saw off in the distance two people walking up the street.  I decided I would overtaken them in style.  I picked up the pace and started after them.  After about ten minutes, I realized they where either walking at an Olympic speed walking pace or I was running really slow.  By the time I caught up to them, I was huffing and puffing and barely able to maintain my composure.  (Seriously, though, what two men wake up at 5:00 am and decide to go on a leisurely stroll with an ouside temperature of 55 degrees?)  I looked like a complete fool as it took me five minutes to gain about 10 feet on them.  Fortunately for me, they turned down a side street.  "Yes," I thought, "I got 'em!"

The real problem with running outside is that you are basically saying to the world:  "Here I am, look at me!"  That is fine if you are one of the rare individuals who looks good wearing spandex (which, FYI, I do not wear, so don't expect any Facebook pictures of me in spandex during the community "Come Out and Watch a Fat Guy Run Extravaganza" this morning).  But, if you are like me, and you do more rolling down the street than running down the street, you have to be willing to make yourself a walking (or rolling) referendum.  You are giving everyone you very slowly run by a free pass at judging you--and that, my friends, is not something I love.