I know that I don’t look like much now, but soon I will become a runner.

When I become a runner, I will wake up before the sun and spring out of bed with the energy of a toddler on Christmas morning. Already clad in my sneakers and athletic gear, I will bound out the door for a casual 20-mile run before breakfast.

My running form will be both graceful and powerful, and as I bounce down the street I will look like a cross between a gazelle and a Ferrari. My face won’t get all red and puffy, instead, it will take on a healthy glow, so much so that I will no longer need to wear makeup ever again. My vigorous jog will clean away any acne I have, shrink my pores, and also make my eyelashes longer and fuller.

Passersby will turn in amazement as I speed down the sidewalk and hit every green light, never once having to do that awkward run-in-place that some people do while they wait to cross the street. What can I say, when I become a runner, I will have impeccable timing and also the kind of consistent good luck that makes you think I am a witch, or at the very least, someone who possesses an enchanted amulet.

I will not need upbeat pop songs or audiobooks to motivate me on my runs. I will instead use my running time to solve the world’s problems, thinking of sustainable solutions to end world hunger or dreaming up bipartisan legislation to address the housing crisis. This kind of mind-body workout will sustain me until it’s time for my cool down, in which I will relax by rotating 3D objects in my mind.

When I become a runner, I will no longer engage in frivolous activities like reading the Cosmopolitan Snapchat story or going through the Facebook pictures of a girl who went to my high school and wants to show off the new condo she bought in Virginia. I won’t even click on her profile, or pour over a tempting 68-page photo album from her adult baptism. In fact, when I become a runner, I will no longer have use for any social media or the infinite cesspool that is the internet. I will only use my computer for checking out books from the library or as a large, very expensive paperweight.

To keep myself in pristine running condition, I will treat my body like a temple. I will eat only fresh fruit and microgreens that I grow myself in my home garden, and I will compost any waste I create. I will become an entire closed-loop ecosystem, a self-sustaining being who does not even recognize the concept of an Oreo, much less crave it.

As a runner, I will not fear death. “Cowards die many times before their death, the valiant only taste of death but once.” That’s right, as a runner I will casually reference William Shakespeare and I won’t even make a big deal about it. That’s because runner me is super smart but not in a big, in-your-face way.

People will both respect my intelligence and think I’m a cool person to have at parties. When I become a runner, the world will finally know peace. The polar ice caps will refreeze and the population of the world will grasp each others’ hands in peace and unity. Birds will sing, babies will laugh, and moral arc of the universe will bend firmly and definitively toward justice.

All these things will happen when I become a runner, which I will definitely, definitely do right after I finish this episode of Love Island.