Supposedly, when American pilots got shot down and captured during the Vietnam War, they would be tortured mercilessly. The Vietnamese would stick bamboo shoots down their fingernails, shock them with electric currents, or if they weren’t feeling too creative, just beat the hell out of them. Sometimes, they’d do this to get information, but mostly it was just for shits and giggles. They’d get bored and mess around with these helpless people who couldn’t fight back. Personally, I don’t get it. If they really wanted to make them suffer, why go through all the trouble of sharpening bamboo or wasting energy? They could have just commandeered a golf cart (those were everywhere in Vietnam back then) and made the prisoner jog as they sipped exotic drinks and laughed hysterically, poking them with bayonets as they motored comfortably behind. After all, I believe that it was the great Colonel Sanders who once said “I make fried chicken and have a white, glorious mustache. Thus, I am more than qualified to endorse the argument that jogging is literally, the absolute worst thing in the world. Even worse than Chick-Fil-A.”
I jog a bit. It’s not a particular hobby of mine, but I’m trying to get in shape, so I do it because it supposedly helps with that kind of stuff. However, I can honestly say that I have never enjoyed a single second that I spent doing it. There are things that I don’t enjoy, like math or reality television and ninety-eight percent of the time I’m involved with them are miserable and utterly horrible. However, there have been moments where I solve a tricky problem or watch something especially ridiculous and I think to myself, wow, that was actually kind of fun/enjoyable/tolerable/not atrocious. That has never happened to me while I’ve been jogging. Not once. I’ve enjoyed myself more while cutting my nails. I’ve had better times being accosted by homeless men on the subway. Hell, I’ve considered throwing myself into gravel and cutting my legs up just to stop jogging.
I went running today. It wasn’t a long run, just about twenty minutes, but I was so exhausted when I got home, I tossed off my shoes and fell face first into the pool. It wasn’t like in one of those movies where it’s really exaggerated and the character comes up all startled and stuff, I was just so miserable from jogging that I thought the pain from my face hitting the water might feel nice in comparison to what I’d just been doing. I was right. Sure, the pool was refreshing and I giggled a bit because my socks were all wet and it tickled my toes, but the feeling of the water slapping me across the mouth was the best thing I’d felt in a while.
I was thinking just now about whether or not I was being totally genuine when I said that I have never enjoyed a second of jogging. After all, the last thing I want to do is dissuade the next Usain Bolt or whatever. So, I’d like to amend that statement. I have enjoyed jogging once in my life. It was when I tore my ACL because I knew I wouldn’t be able to run for at least the next ten to twelve weeks.