I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s definitely something strange about Fergie’s running style here. It’s like her ass just can’t keep up with the rest of her body and she’s desperately pulling it along as if it was loaded with ten tons of coal and a few Depression-era hobos looking for work [which, from what I understand, would certainly explain the undeniable odor of cigars and urine that is said to permeate from her ass whenever she gets excited].

And what’s with all that water and Gatorade she’s carrying around on her waist? It looks like Nick Nolte’s utility belt, if, of course, you replaced the water with vodka and the Gatorade with tomato juice. Sorry Fergie, but unless that additional weight is a kilo of coke, it’s not going to make you run any faster.

And finally, who the hell goes jogging in sweat pants that are roughly six inches too long? It’s like she purposely wants to face-plant off the sidewalk, which, to be fair, could just as easily improve her looks as ruin them. If, of course, the sidewalk in question was made up of nothing more than glue and brown paper bags.