I got fat in Africa. I probably wouldn’t put that on the internet but it is topical: running is hard. Apparently I was taking a break from everything other than hanging out and stuffing my cake/pie/chip/ice cream-hole so today was my first run since I left for Africa. Yeah, that’s almost four months baby. For a person who loses her stamina by just looking at a donut and thinking about a couch this was deadly. I felt those extra pounds hammering down on my poor legs as they TOUCHED when I ran. It was nothing impressive, that is to be sure; a mere 4 kms but I didn’t stop and I didn’t get a stitch. Let’s hope that thigh rub is enough motivation to keep me going. It is disheartening (even if it is my own fault) to go from half marathons to wheezing after a jog around the block. Help me stay motivated, friends (ie. ask if I have moved my lazy butt on a regular basis).