In Which the Montagues Get in Shape...Sort of.

So. Recently the intrepid Husband and I have decided to return to "working out" (a phrase I don't really understand...but, whatever). You see, we both used to be ridiculously active/athletic/fit and trim. Seriously. STOP LAUGHING! We were. We both used to excerise regularly. At one point in my life, I ran 5-7 miles a day. Everyday. 'Cuz I am awesome like that (okay, I was awesome like that). However, we have now devolved into ridiculously inactive/unathletic/roundish. For Isaac, this change came on over the past year as he confronted 14 hour work/school days and perpetual exhaustion. For me, well, let's say I've been working on my Guinness Record for "The World's Only Perfectly Spherical Human" for quite some time now. I was nearly there too...it's a pity to quit this close to the prize. Nevertheless, we have recently re-located our motivation and have begun to exercise on a regular basis. It's been about a week now and, let me tell you, IT SUCKS.
We went "running" yesterday. And by "we went running" I mean Isaac ran and I plodded along and yelled "How much longer?!" and "That's impossible! Show me the watch! What are you trying to do, kill me?!" at regular intervals. And the longer I ran, the more shrill I became. I am sure I was a delight to be around. A delight. 2 minutes of running, followed by 2 minutes of walking (repeat 7 times) nearly killed me AND I USED TO RUN EVERYDAY. Turns out "getting in shape" is about a MILLION times harder than "staying in shape". But, alas, I am committed. I have a schedule, a chart, a menu; the whole nine yards. All because, although the Guinness Record would be cool and all, I really don't want to resemble a human basketball anymore.