14 Stages Of Going For A Run For The First Time In Forever

Your alarm goes off. You allow yourself to hit snooze only once. "I am doing something good for MYSELF today," you whisper to yourself with grim determination. "I am making an INVESTMENT in my LIFE."

You get up. It's physically painful. Yet there is a part of you that is thrilled that this hallowed morning is the morning you will earn the right to feel morally superior to everyone around you, because that's how exercise works.

None of your workout clothes fit quite right because you last used them in your previous incarnation as a person who occasionally wore workout clothes. "This will be fine," you insist to yourself and your cat as your shirt rides up and your pants ride down.

For a brief and shining moment, you are literally and figuratively Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson.

The reality of your physical ability — something slightly less than Steve Rogers before super serum — begins to sink in. Nonetheless you persevere. You are a cheetah. You are a magnificent horse. You are moving faster than that giant stroller with off-road wheels, at least. You are definitely not going to die.

This doesn't actually happen but it feels like it does.

You walk for a bit. Walking is even BETTER than running, some doctors say. Easier on the knees. Less alarming to strangers. There is no shame in walking.

This doesn't actually happen but you pretend that it does and take off jogging again. A small overweight dog overtakes you.

Everything is riding up or down and soon you're just going to be running naked with your shirt around your face and your pants around the ankles like the idiot-who-thought-running-was-a-good-idea that you are.

Honestly, the way to work yourself up to being able to run a mile is to switch between walking and running anyway. This is 100% true and you are in no way a failure for walking right now. Never mind the girl prancing by you like a gazelle. She is on her own life path and you are on yours. And yours involves walking. Sweet, sweet walking.

OK, it's time to start jogging again. Yes, really. Your breathing isn't even labored anymore. You could, like, have a whole conversation at this pace and be fine. You probably wouldn't do that, but you could, and it's the sweet promise of possibility that matters.

Remember when you woke up this morning? You were a different person then. You had goals. You had hope. You had not yet experienced the horrors you know now. Don't let that person down. Be the person who that person needed, and who knew you could be.

There was a time when you were sure you could survive an apocalyptic event, like for instance if there was an outbreak of zombie plague or if a bunch of genetically advanced monkeys escaped a local laboratory and started hunting people, but now you know that you would just die.

It's cool-down time, right? How long have you been doing this? It's totally been at least an hour. It totally hasn't been FIFTEEN MINUTES like your LYING WATCH CLAIMS IT HAS.

You did it. You went on a run this morning. The Rock would be proud of you.