In February, I started running.
And by "running" I mean moving at a mild pace of 4.0 miles per hour. Short legs get no mercy.
I was working on my bucket list task of completing a 5K race. I wasn't thrilled on any level. But I knew if I committed, then I'd feel really bad when I quit. And guilt is a delightful Southern Baptist motivator.
Runner friends assured me I would "love it." Something about endorphins and feeling invincible and burning 1100 calories a mile.
You know what else I've been told I would "love?" Oysters. Sunrises. R. Kelly. Flourless bread. All somewhat overrated.
Five weeks later and running had made no friends here. I would run 10 minutes or 60 minutes or downhill or uphill or in the air conditioning or next to a lake or next to hot guys lifting weights. I never enjoyed a moment of it.
But I was committed. Until this week.
After seeing my general practitioner for a check-up, we had the following email exchange:
Dr: Did you mention at your appointment that you're running a 5K?
Me: Yep. In 5 weeks.
Dr: I don't think you should run at all until you've lost 25 more pounds. I advise all patients to avoid running when they're overweight because of the impact pressure placed on the joints, particularly the knees. That extra 25 pounds equals 100 pounds of pressure. Your joints will suffer irreparable damage.
Me: Did you just tell me I'm too fat to run?
Dr: Jamie! I would never say that! You're too overweight to run.
I ran that proclamation by a trainer at the gym and she agreed. They both suggested I find lower impact exercises such as walking, aerobics, swimming, biking, or the elliptical to lose weight.
However, you and I both know that too overweight to run is probably too overweight for a itty bitty bike seat.
Note: I laid on the ground to get the above picture which isn't exactly Christmas morning on the knees. So I'm probably too "overweight" to be a photographer.