That one time I ran and wasn't being chased by a bear.

I have this friend. Her name is Keliann and she tricks me into agreeing to do things that I would otherwise probably not do. Like running. She has big boobs and I think she uses them to hypnotize me, but whatever.

Keliann convinced me that a 5K on my resume would be a good thing. "You'll be so proud of yourself!" she swore to me. And to make her argument more compelling, she insisted that it should be a Color Run. Because, you know, they're fun.

And so, during the wee hours of this most recent Saturday morning, I put on some ridiculously obnoxious spandex pants (violation of life #1) and a white tee shirt (#2) and ran (#3) ~3.1 miles to a loud and colorful finish line.

And you know what? It was sort of fun. And I almost liked it.

In no way does this classify me as a "runner" and you can also take it to the bank that I ate nothing but Dairy Queen the following day as a reward because all my parts and pieces hurt...but I DID it.