Jog-Walks Suck

After counting down the days until my first jog-walk, today finally arrived. Just before sunset I set out to complete the uni jogging circuit, starting with 20 minutes of walking and then 5 minutes of jogging.
It was frustrating having to walk a course I'd run many times before. Instinct was stabbing me with signals it wanted to send to my legs to make me run. It'd been over four weeks since anything I'd describe as a gait and I had a hunger for one. Also it was freezing. And I was feeling self concious. I could only imagine what those running past me were thinking:

"Why is he walking while everybody else is running?"
"Is that supposed to be a moustache?"
"Is that the ruck for the girls AFL team I just jogged past?"
"Do you think he did that on purpose, or maybe the hair above his lip just grows faster than the rest of his face?"
And so on.

Eventually twenty minutes passed and I elatedly started loping across the grass. For about thirty seconds, before my knee's complaining went from apologetic to violent. I pulled up and rubbed my scar sub-conciously, I'm guessing for the benefit of anyone watching. After a brief walk I decided to try and run again, this attempt lasted a third as long. I then had to limp home where I dejectedly ate a giant bowl of cereal despite it now being night.

I've never understood the body's instinct to eat when sad. What is the thought process here? "I feel bad right now, so bad.. I bet I'd feel better if I was fatter!"

So, after my Cocoa Weet Bix Crunch was done I decided to do something good for my body. And I shaved my moustache off.