Today, the activity was interval running again. Eight intervals of running at low intensity, separated by 30 seconds of recovery. 

First interval: great, I'm way below the expected pace, I'm getting the hang of this shit! I'll be doing 5k tomorrow. In reality, why am I not just going for the 5k run? I clearly can handle it!

Second interval: oh, fuck, my knee hurts. But I'll power through it. I'm a born athlete, as we saw earlier.

Third interval: fuck fuck fuck fuck, my asthma. It's gonna kill me. Where's my inhaler? *drops inhaler on the ground*

Fourth interval: I don't even. Let's take a few seconds before we actually get into pace. But let's do it anyway, even if we lose one of the lungs on the way.

The fifth, sixth and seventh were spent trying to pretend each was the last one and wondering why I am even trying. I'm clearly not cut to run.

Eighth interval: only 30 seconds? Really, lady? You sure you got this thing right? Well, fair enough, let's give it a 110% and work together as a team to achieve the results we're all capable of. I run like the wind and nearly get run over by a car on an intersection, so focused I am for these 30 seconds.

I was supposed to cover 2.6k in 21 minutes. I covered 1.98k in 21 minutes.