I previously had my doubts, but tonight it was confirmed. God is mocking me. "But Mandi," you say, "Smile, Jesus loves you." And I say, "Reader, put a sock in it."
The reason for my sour mood? Well I had the brilliant idea of asking my sister to start training with me to support me in my efforts to become a world class runner (ok, or maybe just to run a 5k). You see, my sister is taller than me, skinnier than me, and has a golden tan even in December. And knowing that she hasn't worked out in 8 years (literally, 8 years!) I thought she would be the perfect running partner so I could at least feel good about myself when I smoked her on the road.
So when we started our run she says to me, "No judging! I haven't done this in a long time!" I mentally smile and say, "Oh, you'll be fine." I am feeling confident that I will be her running mentor and train her to catch up with my athletic ability.
Fast forward 5 minutes.
My sister has been carrying on a full fledged conversation mid-run while I am sucking in air like Willie Nelson on Snoop Dogg's tour bus. When I suggest that we stop and walk for a while, she seems genuinely disappointed. "Gosh, this is easier than I anticipated." She says in an annoying perky voice. "When can we start running again?" In disbelief I look at her and say (in between dry-heaves), "When I say so, bitch." When we start running again (against my own will) she is a full 15 yards in front of me and turns around and yells, "I hope it's ok that I am running at this pace, it just feels comfortable to me." She turns back around while I give her the finger. When we finally (finally!) get to the end of our route she turns to me and says, "Let's run up that hill! Come on, sis, you can do it, it's the last leg!" I am mentally clubbing her at the knees at this point while I watch her cellulite-free thighs (thighs that have never seen the inside of a gym, mind you) run up the hill in front of me.
At that's when it hit me. There is a God. And He hates me.