Yesterday was an immense exercising day.
I walked 1.5 miles on campus, ran 2 miles to class, and then ran 8 miles at night.
Hey guys/fellas/men/boys… This is about to get really personal in a girl way.
So you might wanna stop reading this.
I did not want to go for the evening run. I tried to talk myself into cuddling in the fetal position on my couch with a bowl of popcorn and Dancing With The Stars. But I knew that I needed this. I had been having menstrual cramps straight from hell all day and I knew that running would make it all better.
After 3.5 miles, my uterus and gut wanted to explode. And if I didn’t stop to walk, it probably would have. I walked a couple of minutes, and the flatulence unleashed like a big angry pitbull. Apparently, the same hormones that cause the endometrium lining to shed during menstruation also cause contractions of the gut — leading to increased flatulence and even diarrhea!
Back to my flatulence …. so after releasing my painful gas and contributing to more global warming, I went back to running and never stopped! 8 miles, you’re mine.
Bloated, gassy, happy mess.
I don’t jog. I run. Jogging is for senior citizens who put on polyester track suits to only run 1 mile, only to not run for another week.