Actually, this is cruelty-free spandex.

Are you blogging this? My work-out buddy asks me this question every Tuesday night, usually in the empty high school parking lot where our running group meets for the warm-up.

We are both back in training to successfully complete an inexplicably popular 10k race in April. Success to us means not dying, peeing, puking our shitting our pants during the effort.

We're at risk of doing all four of these things, although perhaps not in that order. Her and I are not natural athletes. I can barely be referred to as natural anything. Proof that our bodies are not built for long or short bursts of running lies in our stomachs.

The aching shins and hips are to be expected, but complaining that a hip hurts or a knee feels out of whack actually helps us feel athletic. We have sports injuries! From actual sports! No, really!

We know that to remedy these aches and pains we need to focus on strengthening something in our bodies called "a core." Apparently this would be the middle section of my body that has always given me problems. The top half of this section I'm always wishing to grow bigger, but it's the lower half that keeps expanding.

There are classes just for core training, and exercises we could do at home. We know this because we've discussed doing both, and these conversations are exhausting enough.

Besides, core training won't do much to help our stomach situations. If I say the word 'running' to my friend she has to poo. Just like that. Prior to actually going for a run, she's been known to poo up to four separate times in anticipation. I've proposed that she doesn't need running to lose weight. We just have to talk about it and the pounds will fall right off of her.

My problem is of the more liquid variety. My bladder shrinks accordingly with every running step forward. Should I ever run a marathon, that organ might just shrivel and vanish from my body completely.

The problem isn't actually shrinkage, it's bouncing. In some runners, the colon and bladder can "jostle." I would have thought internal organs would be somehow better anchored, but it seems there's a lot more free floating going on in there than I would have believed.

Nevertheless, my friend and I joined a running group, and that group may already be sorry.

Every Tuesday we're divided into three smaller groups. One group is a handful of crazy people who head out for a casual 15k every Tuesday night, and a second group are runners who are considerably more advanced in their training for the big race. My friend and I belong to the third group, who are baby stepping our way through a beginners run/walk interval program.

We're supposed to do our warm-up exercises segmented within the larger group, and every Tuesday evening my friend and I confuse where we're supposed to be, and in the process confuse at least a dozen other people. One would think we'd recognize other members of our beginners group by now, but my excuse is that it's dark out by the time we get there.

Every Tuesday the warm-up is halted at some point so that the confusion caused by my friend and I can be sorted out. It happens when we argue over what section of the parking lot we're supposed to be in, causing dozens of eavesdroppers to doubt themselves.

I'll instinctively join a group because they're doing arm circles which I like, but another group is doing leg lunges, which I really don't. My friend likes walking on her toes, so she'll go over with that group. By the time everything is halted because we're still publicly arguing whether we're supposed to be here or over there, half the members in every group changed places.

We've both been very sick for the past few weeks, but I'm proud of ourselves because we've kept up our running schedule. It's not so much perseverance, but the knowledge that there's no way in hell we'll persevere if we stop now.

This has made for some really awful runs recently. I have a cold that has lingered so long, I can honestly say that as of today it's outlasted the majority of my relationships.

Although I seem to be on the mend (this isn't a scientific determination, but I no longer sound like James Earl Jones so that should count for something), I've been barking like a seal when I try to breathe deeply. My friend has had the stomach flu, and has been in serious danger of something spectacular happening out of one or both ends the last few times we've been out.

Neither of us have ever been in danger of landing in a Gatorade commercial at the best of times. Rather, we've considered producing our own line of at at home work-out DVDs that stick a little closer to reality.

Instead of hard-bodied women who've never known the pleasures of carbohydrates smiling like beauty queens the entire way through an hour long work-out, there would be us; four steps behind the routine, substituting the eff word for every happy cheer raised by the cardio-bots and tripping over our coffee tables. It will retail for $9.99.

We're upfront about our suffering. During our Tuesday practice runs, the official "run leaders" will occasionally take a moment to stop and yell encouragement to us beginner runners who are slogging by. There are actually people who respond to all of the, "Good jobs!" and "You're doing greats!" with happy cheering noises.

We are not those people. This past Tuesday, a run leader made the mistake of hollering out a hearty, "How are ya doing?" as we passed. My friend yelled back that she was going to puke and wanted to die.

She lived, and I'm so glad. Without her I might quit, and it's incredible how much worse a sense of failure can feel than a feeling of actually wanting to die due to lactic acid build-up.

She helps see me through, and so this Tuesday, I'm happy my answer will finally be,"Yes. I am blogging this."

Anal glands now no longer allowed on planes.

You know your career is probably off the rails when a large amount of hard work can be undone by anal glands. Particularly, anal glands belonging to a cat. Anal glands belonging to a cat that ruptured. The anal glands that is. The cat didn't rupture and presumably is fine, or as fine as any creature can be whose ass somehow exploded over the weekend.

I should back up for a moment. First of all, it's important to know that my friends and colleagues within my organization love me, are very supportive, and I love them to pieces in return. Our receptionist even suggested that should we win the lottery jackpot my office area regularly pools our money for, I should get a larger share of the winnings. It's the only way she feels I'll get a man.

Yes, I love my work friends and colleagues, even though they're assholes. The c-level and VP crowd however, would rather I not exist. The reasons for this are many, ranging from my refusal to just shut up and be the scapegoat they reuire me to be, to my utter refusal to kiss posterior or say yes when the answer should clearly be no.

I've also been known to express concerns regarding policies that could possibly be misconstrued by lesser people without a VP title or $800,000 a year salary as being technically criminal.

Also, I once ate a yogurt parfait reserved for the president just prior to a breakfast meeting. How was I supposed to know it was a specially reserved presidential parfait? I can not resist a parfait, and it was unfair to be put in that position.

I'm not counting on a raise this year is what I'm saying. In case I ever wonder whether it's my own insecurities that make me think my boss's bosses are not fond, I have the memories of the president calling me incompetent...in eight different meetings spanning multiple years.

My last boss told me I wouldn't be getting any resources come budget time because I have a bad attitude and I've been referred to in an email no less, as the "dirt in that needs to be cleaned up." Considering I'm the only person who works in my department, there are few positive conclusions one can draw.

Don't worry, the cat's ass explosion is coming up shortly. Several weeks ago I was tasked with planning two large events, taking place within 24 hours of one another.

If either event experiences any glitches whatsoever, I've been told my position will likely be "reconsidered." I was provided with an online registration software system, two teams of volunteers, and an administrative assistant to manage logistics. What could possibly go wrong?

The online registration system crashed, which is to be expected. Within moments, our IT department informed me it would not be functional again in time for either event, as it's not on their list of projects or priorities for the year.

What followed was a Seinfeld-esque conversation in which I tried to find out how a project can expected to be on a list when it's not expected to break. I'm not sure anything was settled, but if it were an argument, I think I may have lost.

One team of volunteers are fighting amongst themselves over who gets to call themselves the leader of the team of volunteers, and two out of the five volunteers are threatening to quit this team of volunteers and start a new team of volunteers without the other three, because that would sure show...somebody.

The second team of volunteers have written angry letters to the president of my organization, the same one who went without his specially reserved yogurt parfait because of me, that the online registration software failure can only be my fault, and my inability to fix it is a black-eye to the entire organization.

This would probably be something I would feel shame over, if my position and background were in computer programming. They are not. I am in public relations, which means I have no idea how to fix software, but I should be able to explain how it's broken in a way that will make the failure sound like a resounding success.

While I do have some technical skills, they are too highly specialized to waste on computer coding. If only the same technical skills that allow me to remove the muffin crumbs from my keyboard through vigorous shaking could be more transferable.

Finally, my administrative support, the person I designated to manage registration for both events, will be away from the office indefinitely, because her cat's ass exploded. The technical term would be a ruptured anal gland, which I had been blissfully unaware was even a possibility until this morning.

The cat's ass has to be monitored every 20 minutes, and a warm compress applied every four hours.

Sweet Christ on a cracker. Despite warring parties of volunteers, low registrations and my job hanging in the balance...I actually feel better after writing the sentence above. Right now, my poor administrative assistant is monitoring a cat's exploded ass like it's under suicide watch.

Apparently...there are worse jobs than mine in the world, and for that I should be grateful.