Maybe if I keep writing about it, something will happen.

Like a fairy godmother will appear out of nowhere and miraculously make me want to run again.

I hate this idea that I need to run because I'm fat. When I started running two years ago, it was because I was ... well... peer-pressured into it... then I fell in love with it.

And no matter how late it was, and no matter for how short, I found the time and energy to run.

Now, 15 pounds later (Yes, 15 pounds. FUCK.) I have zero energy, zero time and zero motivation to run. Other than I'm frikkin' Fat Bastard fat.

And I hate the idea that now I have to run because I'm fat.

GAH! Stop this pity party. Where are my weights?