Yesterday, I went dune running. In case you’re wondering, dunes are made of sand and sand is difficult to run in because it squashes all around under your feet instead of the normal ground, which generally stays put.
Before we began, one of my new friends who became my friend after I won the ‘5k’ race, explained to me that this was the worst workout that the cross country team ever did. When he said it, people around him began to also proclaim the horror of its ways, with references to burning thighs and hellfire, etc.
This was exciting for me, though, because I have actually never met a workout that came described in such a way that I did not enjoy thoroughly. So I sort of just smiled. And he said, “You don’t believe me.” And I said, “I do believe you, I’m just excited.” And then he laughed.
So it was fine. I mean, what I should really say is that it was awful and terrible and so intense I thought I might die and need to start praying to the good lord to finally save my everlasting and sinful soul, but, well, I am against lying.
I felt a little bad afterwards, though, when I realized that running in the sand dunes slowly destroys them. It’s because I’m an environmentalist or whatever.