Run for a Reason is a chance to hit the pavement to raise money for an issue that is very dear to your heart. For some it involves something deeply personal and profound, for others, that reason is entirely intertwined into the double helix of their own self serving DNA.
Trish’s road to fun run glory started a month before the event. She took time out of her busy schedule of posting squat rack selfies and replaced them with updates of her bi-weekly run times. Fueled by Herbalife and motivated by her desire to inspire, she hits the pavement with #determination. As a #livelifetothemax-cunt she feels a divine obligation to relentlessly smash social media with posts of her #cleanliving and all-round fucking awesomeness in the field of narcissistic fitness documentation. This is her life, and you’re living it one selfie at a time.
Trish awakens on Sunday morning with the smug glow of fitness superiority. In the two weeks preceding the HBF run she has been taking some of the best fitness selfies of her life and is pumped that her big social media day has arrived. She gets ready for the run by applying a #nomakeup amount of makeup and adorning her she-adonic frame in the finest Lululemon has to offer. She posts her first mirror selfie of the day, “getting ready for the HBF Run for a Reason #hbf #runforareason #nomakeup #fitness #health #lululemon #running”. Shove that in your Burger Ring shovelling slack-holes you lazy pigs.
She arrives at the registration area and promptly lays her competition shirt, number card, sunglasses and fitness watch on a grassy patch for her next update. She takes a great shot but is struggling to think up a sufficiently boastful caption. “Oh my god, I totally forgot my reason, hey Terry what reason are you running for?” Her friend pauses for a moment, “AIDS”. Trish is relieved, “oh yeah good one!” She completes her update, “getting ready for my 21km to raise awareness for AIDS Without Borders #whatsyourreason? #funrun #runforareason #sunday #iPod #babeswithsunnies #wellness #lifecoach #wrapyourwilly #halfmarathon”. Staggering.
Trish powers through the sea of sweaty hashtag activists and is running for a good reason: to make sure her newspaper result time photo the next day is better than the other fitness hoes that go to her gym. No one is going to accept her as their life coach and Herbalife pusher if she posts a bad time, so she grits her teeth and runs harder than Hey Dad’s stiffy while watching the best of Nudge. It’s the moment she has been waiting for, the holy grail of fitness selfies, the 21km medal pose in front of the finishing line banner. She posts her photo and unleashes a steaming pile of self-absorbed fuckery:
“such a proud moment, I competed hard and got the results I was after, you can do anything you put your mind to, ignore the haters, live your dream and most importantly never give in, I believe in all of you xxx #halfmarathon #accomplished #believe #lifecoach #unbelievable #healthylife #inspo #bethechange #whatsyourreason”.
Trish heads out for a recovery feed that she intends to Instagram the living shit out of. She may have raised $0 for AIDS but that’s OK because the inspiration that she provided to all of us pretty much makes her Jesus Christ himself. She is going to sell so much fucking Herbalife, and she has a new shirt that she intends to wear to Jacob’s Ladder every single day until the City to Surf. #killingit.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?