Today I ran for 5 miles up a steep incline while carrying two blocks of concrete.
Wait. No.
I jogged less than 1 mile while pushing a pair of children who I suspect have lead in their pants. So I may as well have run uphill with concrete. It was that obnoxious.
And by jog, I mean I panted and sweated and jogged at a pace most people can walk at.
Im lucky to get through a regular jog with that large mass I call a butt trying to drag me down into the gutter. Add 70 pounds of offspring in the front and its like pitting a lion against a one legged zebra.
It's quite unfortunate.
Did I finish? Yes.
Did it hurt? Yes.
Am I enjoying this yet? No.
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