"Fuck off already, the fact that I am moving is a miracle enough."
But because I have no breath to talk I say:
"Want to carry on with the longer block, or turn off here."
"Can you see I am barely breathing that I am about to die, and you want to know if I want to take the longer course, have you gone blind and deaf?"
All I can manage to say is:
"no" Which would have been a shouted "NO" if I had any energy left.
While we are jogging I swear in my head if it were out loud I would sound like that girl in the movie "Paul" when she realises her religion was fake.
We skipped close to 3 weeks while on holiday and I am sadly back to doing a 1km. It will probably take me a month to get back to doing 3km.
My wonderful husband turns into an evil beast when it comes to jogging; some of our conversations:
"You had some beers with lunch are you sure you are alright to go jogging with me?"
"No stress it is more like a fast walk anyway"
"My legs hurt."
"The pain is good it means you are making your muscles work"
Even his actions are rude, after I am done jogging with him and lying on the trampoline gasping for breath and praying to die, he goes off and jogs double the distance at half the speed and comes back barely out of breath.