I'm not an athlete, nor am I an avid runner. The most exercise I've done in the last 6 months is walk 30 blocks to an ice cream place in New York City. The most physical activity I do on any given day is stretching my arm to impossible lengths to try and reach my computer without getting out of bed. I'm a firm believer in "brunches over crunches."

Inevitably, there comes a day where, after eating an entire Domino's pizza to myself the night before, I feel the need to go for a run. Typically this happens about once or twice per month, and every time I go through the same 12 stages.

1. The Decision.

Resulting from boredom, or the aforementioned consumption of an entire pizza, I find the energy to hunt down my headphones and lace up my sneakers.

2. The outfit hunt.

Sometimes this takes longer than the actual run because I realize that the last time I bought workout shorts was when I ran track in high school. Eventually I find a suitable pair of workout pants and an old school t-shirt, only to realize either I can't find my sneakers or they're so worn out I'm not sure if they'll hold it together through the mile. Don't even get me started about trying to find a ponytail.

3. The playlist.

I realize the last time I made and saved a running playlist was 2009 and I have to carefully select just the right jams to keep me going.

4. The start.

I start running and I feel great. I chose a killer first song on my new running playlist and I didn't need my inhaler yet. Maybe I could even run three miles today instead of two.

5. The stop.

About 60 seconds after I claim I could run two miles, I make a dead stop in the middle of the road and reach for an imaginary ventilator.

6. The walk.

I wonder if my neighbors saw me run 30 feet and stop to catch my breath. I better swing my arms while I walk so it looks like I'm intending to do a fast-walk workout and not just gasp for air during my run.

7. The awkward run-in.

Oh crap. Is that my ex-boyfriend from the seventh grade? I better start running again so I don't look like an idiot.

8. The jog.

Maybe if I start jogging instead I'll be able to breathe easier. Nope, just as bad.

9. The blame game.

How did the mile we ran in gym class every day not prepare me for this? That yoga class I did once two weeks ago definitely didn't help either. Maybe I'm just not meant to run.

10. The home stretch.

I've never been so happy to see my house before, aside from those times I came home during a school break to a home cooked meal. Wow, I'm hungry.

11. The stretch.

Maybe I should do an ab workout. I'm already in my gym clothes and I could use a little more exercise. *Proceeds to lay on floor and catch breath for 20 minutes instead of doing abs.*

12. The vow.

I'm never running again. That was terrible. How do Olympians do this for a living? I should treat myself. Is 9 a.m. too early for a bowl of ice cream?