I'll Have What She's Having

I'll never be a runner.
This is a fact I know about myself.

I've always blamed my lack of compatibility with running on my bad ankles.
And my distaste for being too warm.
Oh, and the pain;
I don't much care for the pain.
All of which are pretty good reasons for not running, but, as I recently discovered, these are not the real reasons why I cannot run.

Running, it turns out, makes me talk dirty.
Loudly.
And that's just not the sort of thing I can be doing around the neighborhood - in front of impressionable children and small animals.

I discovered my dirty, dirty runner's mouth thanks to my winter workouts with the Wii. Feeling all amped up and immortal after my forays into expert mode virtual boxing and rhythm parade (What?! It's a sport! Kinda.), I decided to give running a virtual whirl.

And it didn't kill me.
And I liked that it didn't kill me.
So I did it again.
Eventually, I got so full of my virtual runner self that I clicked on the RUN (LONG) icon on the screen.

I maintained a good pace and kept up with my Mii guide through the trail.
About halfway through, I started to realize that this long run was - spoiler alert! - longer and more difficult than the short runs had been.

To keep myself motivated (because I'm far too stubborn to just quit), I started yelling.
To myself.
Cheering myself on, I guess.

As I neared the virtual finish line, I realized what I'd been saying and how, um, wrong it sounded -

Yes!
That's it!
Keep going!
Do it! Do it!
You're almost there!
Uh-huh!
Keep it up!
That's right!
Yesssss!

Oh, and the big sigh of relief at the end did not help matters much either.

I cannot take this show on the open road.
Whatever would the neighbors think?!
One minute I'd be running along the lakeshore, then the going would get tough, and I'd turn into Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally.

I like my neighborhood, and I don't want to have to move.

And that's why I'll never be a runner.
Really.