I fucking hate you.
Yes you, social media.
Not only do I learn that some people I like are Republicans (ugh), but I get to see how fast some of you are running now. How wonderful your training is going. How ZOMGZ AWESOME YOUR ZOMGZ BOYFRIEND is. How your fucking dog shit all over outside and it was SO CUTE. How your goddamn baby shit all over it and it was SO CUTE.
I’m kind of over this shit.
If we disagree on politics, fine. I just don’t want to discuss it. But I can’t fucking avoid it if you’re posting about how you want to suck Mick Romney’s dick while fingering Paul Ryan’s asshole.
Likewise, I don’t care about your baby.
Or your dog.
Or your fiance.
Or your boyfriend.
So stop it with the fucking pictures.
Oh: I don’t care about your PR. Or how fast you are right now. Or how impressed you are with yourself and your fucking 6 pack.
(So stop it with THOSE pictures too.)
While my disdain of this shit is nothing new, I find everything particularly painful now because after months of slow, slow, slow build up I’ve had a few occasions were I kind of sort of felt like a runner again…as opposed to, you know, a sumo wrestler. Or water buffalo.
But it’s fleeting. And it’s a struggle. I’m working more hours a week than miles ran. And it sucks. I know, wah wah wah get over it. I GET IT.
To that end, your enthusiasm for this shit disgusts me. To me, running is like taking a massive shit. I don’t enjoy it, but if I DON’T do it? Bad things happen.
I run because I have to. If I don’t, I’ll weigh 4385943809584 pounds and look like the mom from Honey Boo Boo.
But you people? You love this shit. You soak it up. You talk about how RUNDERFUL shit is. You have fun. YOU ENJOY THIS SHIT. You do your long runs before the last minute and are at brunch by the time I am trudging my fat, pathetic, middle aged ass through whatever street I can bring myself to run down.
After decades in this sport? Every step reminds me of failure. Every. fucking. step. I’m still running about the same times I’ve always run. Still not really trying to do anything to change that.
It makes me wonder: what the fuck IS the point?
At what time do you just stop shitting and strap on the old colostomy bag?
In other words: when is the aggravation just…not worth it? I mean…I’ve always been mediocre as all shit with no other athletic ability. Why is it just NOW getting to me?
I don’t know, but I blame social media and the constant reminder of how perfect and motivated all you fucking cunts are.
So…drop dead. K?