proust & ponies.

as some of you know, i've taken up jogging. this works out pretty well, considering i spend the majority of my day in a chair writing essentially the same words over again. plus, it makes me read stupid fast and i burn trough literature at a freakish rate.

however, it was recently brought to my attention that ladies who run are fantastically gross. there's some merit to that, i'll admit. afterall, there are ladies who run like this:



and this




pretty fairly monstrous. (who runs in skirt, by the way?) running certainly doesn't make you cooler - it all depends on your approach. if you're lame to begin with, running isn't going to do squat. if anything, it'll lead you to adopt this sort of aesthetic:



no fight there. she is clearly smug and unloveable.



but as for myself, i am not lame.

when i go about running, it is more like this:




also, add in the fact i am juggling two translations of proust.

two.

go ahead, do the math.


+

+


sum? pretty darn saucy. you bet.

conclusion: if running was inherently lame - why would ponies do it?