"I like to jump," I told my uncle when he asked me what I wanted for my 10th birthday. Now I know that "to jump" is not really something you can go out and buy in a store, but my uncle started thinking about it. The result?

I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, a runner.

Unless I am playing some intense Ultimate Frisbee or am trying to get somewhere really awesome in a short amount of time, I absolutely positively despise running. It makes every fiber of my being scream in pain just thinking about it. It makes me want to curl up into a ball and cry.