Why Running or Walking In The Woods Is Bad For You

Running in the woods is beyond all reason; it is potentially dangerous and life-altering. It simply shouldn't be done and this is why:

You may sweat. This is outright disgusting. SHOWER? WHERE'S THE SHOWER? WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP HANDING ME THIS DR. BRONNER'S STUFF AND WHY IS IT SO MINTY?

You may step in mud. WHAT IS THIS ICKY, GROSS DISGUSTINGNESS THAT IS RUINING MY UGGS?

You may lose bars on your cellphone. You may even be unable to text or Instagram for the eternity that is an hour or two. THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE. 

There may be hills and your legs may become tired. NO ONE SAID ANYTHING ABOUT A HILL AND ANYWAY THAT'S WHAT THE GYM IS FOR.

You may find it necessary to cross a stream and wet your UGGs. NOOOOOOO!

You might breathe in air that is filled with an unmistakable scent of damp dirt, which may be frightening or disconcerting, particularly if you've never smelled it before. This may cause deeper inhalations, a clearer head, and a slower pace. MY MIND IS...EMPTY.

You may come across a piece of trash and this will, inexplicably, make you very angry and petulant.

Your heart may flutter. IS THIS A HEART ATTACK?

You may start reciting Robert Frost poems. WHOSE WOODS THESE ARE....

You may experience absolute solitude. NOPE. WHERE MY PEOPLE AT???

You may never want to leave. So dangerous. Don't do it.

You might not return to your office job, ever. 

You may discover that your body is quite the efficient machine that keeps surprising you, hour after hour. NOPE. NOT POSSIBLE. I DID NOT JUST DO THAT.

You may experience pure, unadulterated pleasure. WHAT IS THIS...FEELING?

You may encounter various non-humans. These non-humans may cause you to discover that humans are not the only species on this planet and in fact, we must share.

You may encounter yourself. 

o trusty tread, an ode

o trusty tread
great friend o' mine
thou art
when dirty
treacherous ice
on my road sticks
you are, in your sturdy
machine-ness, there
to move
my legs, feisty and
restless

though the world hates
you as if you
were sloth
you are not,
o trusty tread
trust, me.

though you are not grass
or rock or stream
you do not
pretend to be.
a job it is, you do
for me.

so thank
you.


by fatgirlrunning