Day 2 - Jogging

500 miles is a long way. If three miles is no picnic, I have a whole new appreciation for the willingness of the guy in the song to go that far, even if he's walking instead of jogging.
Today I was sore and pretty much didn't want to go jog, but I reminded myself of the mantra for this blog "Hey, it's only a week".
So I hit the gym again and found a spot in the back row of treadmills. Once on the treadmill, same pace - I felt after one lap the way I felt Sunday after a mile.
Then this curly-haired blonde headed over and picked the machine next to mine. I was praying she'd go elsewhere, follow the unwritten rule of leaving an empty machine between runners for as long as possible, but no such luck. She was the ideal cheerleader type, toned and yet boobylicious, wearing tiny shorts and a crop top as her workout gear.
I hadn't thought it was possible to feel worse, gasping for air and struggling to stay on pace. Then her male counterpart (they were probably married, actually) showed up to claim the machine on my other side. He only wore shorts and was as tanned and tight as she. There I was in my scrubby sweats, between Mr. and Mrs. Universe.
I tried to focus on just finishing and not falling off the treadmill. Still, I couldn't help but notice that they were both plugged into iPods that apparently gave them interval training directions. They sped up, slowed down, and raised and lowered the incline of their treadmills repeatedly. It was distracting, but perhaps that was a good thing, because I made it to the end of my run and got out of there.