I ran my first race today

And by ran, I mean lightly jogged in between extended bouts of moderately quick walking.  Obviously running is not my thing.  My body is built more for sports like say, dancing like Jlo or hula hopping.  And I was so obviously the thing that didn't belong there.  I was surrounded by tight asses in tight running shorts that leave nothing to the imagination.  Also all the runners were basically wearing nothing, essentially tank tops and shorts that barely cover their ass.  I was in eight layers of clothing.  It was 40 freaking degrees with wind gusts that made me stand and cry.  I was with bro-in-law who is the one who made me do this thing along with sisette - for whom this was a regular weekend workout and my bestie who does 4 miles on her off training days.  That's right I said it was just 4 miles and I'm not embarrassed - 4 miles sucks balls.  You know what's better than running for 4 miles - just about anything you can do on a sunday: brunch, a matinee, shopping, relaxing, chillaxing.  So bro-in-law ran backwards in front of me for the first mile to "motivate" me, shouting things like "pick up the pace," "you're slowing down now," "can you breathe?"  Then he got so bored he took off and the ladies stayed behind with me.  At one point they got ahead a bit and I noticed they weren't really running like I was, they were basically bobbing up and down while fast-walking.  They were fake-running for my benefit, my pace was so pathetic they couldn't even run that slow - so they had to pretend.  Giant people were passing me, one guy who had no legs passed me - no joke.  The whole time I was doing it I was thinking to myself, "I hate this, this is stupid, I could stop now, I could stop and feel just fine, I could get in a cab and go home, I could take a bath, and eat cookies, and look at my new ring." But Pants was waiting for me at the finish and the girls were going slow for my benefit so I had to stay in it, and I quietly hated them all for it.  A few times I said, "go ahead and I'll catch up with you guys."  But those bitches knew better, if they went fast, I went home.  So they stayed there like my two skinny little jogging bodyguards.  At about a 1/2 mile left, just as I'm really about to quit this thing, I see bro-in-law heading the wrong way towards us.  He had finished, ate a bagel and had a cup of coffee, probably balanced his checkbook, and then started the race backwards to find us.  Then there was more motivational coaching.  I finally get my ass over the finish line, at just over 50 minutes.  The winner finished in 19.  At the end they are all like, don't you feel good, aren't you proud.  The answer is no, my knees hurt, I'm cold, and running is stupid.  I got home, soaked in a tub, baked cookies and promptly feel asleep on the couch - like you are supposed to do on a Sunday.  I shan't be running again.