Dammit, Jean, you done did this to yourself.

I'm fat. Because I'm fat, I've decided to put myself on a running schedule. This is much easier than an eating schedule, because the reason I'm fat is that I like fattening food and candy that goes on clearance after Halloween. (Going to Target tonight. Will I restrain myself? Depends. Will White Fudge Oreos finally be on the shelves?)

My running schedule is quite simple: I will run 15 miles per week.

I was going to say 3 miles per day for five days a week, but that doesn't make as much sense. Saying that I will run 15 miles a week allows me to procastinate, as I am wont to do, but to then suffer for said procrastination.

For example.

For example, I started this running goal last week, week starting on Monday. Last Monday, I ran three miles. Then on Tuesday, I didn't run. And on Wednesday, I didn't. And on Thursday, there was no running. I had twelve miles to cover in three days. On Friday, Halloween, I woke up at 5 in the morning and ran three cold morning miles. They felt good. I was planning to run three again that night when I got home, but Halloween in the high school--and with all the students and all that sugar--is exhausting. So I came and slept for three hours and then woke up and ate a bunch of shitty food. I had 9 miles left for two days, and I ran three miles on Saturday morning because Liz was here and James said three was all I could do. Then yesterday I had to pick up the slack, so I ran six miles. Well, 6.5. I even went over the goal.

I didn't want to go running yesterday, I wanted to sleep on the couch all day and not shower and eat cheese. But I ran and I couldn't be mad at anybody but me. I took it easy, slow. The wind was warm. And I'm off to a good start. I'm taking the strides necessary to get me back where I was.

It's just that I miss those morning runs in Mankato, the ones before the earliest 1:00 class, that were second nature to me. Wake up at 10:00, little grad student, and then run down Warren and up Stadium and back home via Highland Park. Three miles, that's nothing. In January, the gym, lifting weights and running two miles 'round the track, then a mile on the elliptical. Sunday night, water aerobics with a penguin and fat freshman girls who go home and make lasagna after. I know this is the next best thing, but I miss routine. I just gotta stick to this. I just, just, just gotta.