Godzilla!!!!

I turned 40 last week. It was not a pleasant event. I was dragged, kicking and screaming from my late thirties into what I would call "adulthood." I didn't ask for this, and I certainly didn't want it.

So now that I am officially an adult, I decided it was time to do adult things, like get in better shape.

To that end, I have started running again. I use the word "running" loosely, because what I do can only be described as watching an elephant wade through a mud pit while dragging thirty ton boulders with jumper cables hooked up on one end to a jumbo jet sized battery and the other end to his testicles.

Yeah, that bad.

Every stride I take, I expect a small Japanese man to jump out of the bushes and scream "GODZIRRA!"

To keep me company on these Bhutan death marches, I bring my Chocolate Lab Cooper along. Although I'm not sure I should, because he is quite demoralizing. Since I'm "running" at such a slow pace, he pretty much fast walks next to me, tail high in the air, strutting along like a show pony.

If I could catch up to him, I'd probably kick him in the ass.

So I plod along like a Clydesdale, huffing and puffing and sweating like a whore in church. Now, I've only been doing this for a week, but I've done it every other day. It seems to me, that after a week's worth of effort, it should get a teensy weensy bit easier, since I'm "running" the same distance at roughly the same pace. But no, it actually seems like it's getting harder. Here's the kicker: I've lost ten pounds (give or take), but it feels harder! WTF?

I'm going to keep at it, if for no other reason than to keep my dog in shape. And the little Japanese man, of course.