Why I Run: The Blerch

One of these days, internet..... One of these days, I will manage to make this blog the priority that I WANT to make it.

Today, and over the next few days, I want to share a comic that my co-rabble runner shared with me.  It gets inside my head, and I can't believe I never found it earlier.

Part I: The Blerch

Now.  I do NOT run distances like the writer of this comic does.  As you know, my running is on-again-off-again, and the farthest distance I have done is a half marathon.  This will likely be the farthest distance I EVER do.  But this comic speaks truth to my brain.

The Blerch is a part of my life as well.  The Blerch convinces me that it is more important for me to finish watching that NCIS marathon, or to play another round (or 20) of Tetris, or to finish off that bag of chocolate, than it is to run.  The Blerch tells me it's ok if I only run one mile, even if I planned to run 4.  It's too hot.  It's too cold.  It's too rainy.  It's allergy season.  The dry is bad for your asthma.  The Blerch never runs out of reasons.  But when I give in, The Blerch is not silenced.  When I listen to the The Blerch, it also then tells me I am a terrible person and berates me for being lazy.  The Blerch, is, to put it nicely, a world-class jackass.

The Blerch may not shut up when I listen to it.  The Blerch may not be quieted when I am caught in the hands of inertia and cheese dip.  The Blerch is not all-powerful, though.  The Blerch can be outrun.  The Blerch can be silenced.  The Blerch can be outwitted with logic and knowledge. The Blerch can be quieted through self-love and acceptance.  The Blerch can kiss my pale, round, jiggly, tookus.