The Time When My Son Tricked Me Into Jogging and I Just About Died

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My mom heart fluttered with joy when my son asked me to join him in an activity. He was so excited.

That should of been a red flag.

Walking in the evening around our neighborhood. Well this sounds innocent enough.

I am envisioning long talks, stopping by the barn to see the animals, and maybe a few pounds being shed.

I get out a matching pair of shorts and shirt, my ultra cute water bottle and sneakers. I am ready.

About three minutes into it he looks at me and asks if I was ready.

Ready for what?


The joy immediately left my heart and fear entered.

He tried to assure me that it was just a little jogging and then walking.

He made it sound so great, I thought what was the harm in trying, right?

Wrong! I found the harm.

I did tell him if he got ahead of me just keep going I will eventually catch up or see him back home.

Downhill wasn’t too bad. For a hot second.

Two unpleasant things were obvious from the get go…

One, when you are a DD cup size pay for the better sports bra.

Sell your plasma. Put some stuff on E-Bay. Whatever you have to do. Buy the better sports bra.

Two. It is possible for your shorts to ride up so far between your thighs that they become part of your underwear.

Speaking of underwear, this is a good time for granny panties. Do not wear silky undies on this journey. They do not absorb sweat.

I turn the corner and my son is no where to be seen. And I begin the first of two hills.

Sweat is sliding into my eyes. It stings. I can’t tell if my cheeks have tears or sweat on them.

I cannot go any further. I sit down.

BIG mistake.

The world starts spinning. I hurt.

Why do people run for fun? How horrible was their childhood if this is considered fun?

I remember asking God to give me a sign that I will make it back home.

No shitting you I look up and there are freaking buzzards above my head. Buzzards. Like a scene in a Stephen King movie.

Through my squinty, burning eyes I can see them circling above looking at me like Thanksgiving has come early.

I tried to get up. My legs no longer hurt because they went numb.

I cannot stand. It literally takes me about 5 minutes to get in the upright position.

I noticed a lady on her porch with her phone in hand. I would bet any money that she had 911 ready.

That or she was recording it to post my pain on YouTube.

There is still a little over a mile until I am back in the safety of my own home. I am afraid to look to see if the buzzards are following me.

I didn’t realize how much time had gone by. Time meant nothing.

Using my last bit of strength I open the front door. My son is sitting on the couch already showered.

I fall onto the bed. Sweat pouring off of me.

My clothes are soaked.

My thighs feel like they have road rash from rubbing together. Friction is not my friend.

Adding insult to injury, I am now stuck in my sports bra.

I am too sweaty to get it off. I promise myself I am buying a zipper close one as soon as I am free.

I give up and call my husband into the room.

He wants to laugh so bad. There I am standing with tears coming down my face and my one arm up and to the side in a pose we both didn’t know was possible.

After showering away the embarrassment, I lay down. My legs feel like small electrical pulses are being sent up and down them.

I open up Facebook to relax.

A friend tags me in a post about a group of us all doing Couch to 5K to get healthy.

Hope it worked out for them. I have no way of knowing. I unfriended them.

I haven’t been back out yet. I am afraid of flashbacks once turning that corner again.

Maybe someday.

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