Yesterday was the first time in [mumble]
Not wog, but actually ran!
I am so paying the price today!
Last night I had the good fortune to be in a hotel with gym equipment and took advantage of it.
My run was comparable to a hippo doing ballet. This is not me being self deprecating; the lady on the bike in front of me kept shooting me worried glances as she thought she would have to give me some type of CPR.
It wasn't all bad. The first two minutes I thought, "Yeah baby! I got this!".
This feeling actually lasted for about six minutes. I cranked up Chubb Rock, rolled my shoulders and was off. Minute seven, Chubb Rock stopped "treating me right" and I had to switch to Missy Elliott. No amount of "Work It, Lose Control or Chingaling" was working.
It was tough.
I was trying to keep my cool and not huff and puff quite so loudly. For a while I sounded like a crank phone caller.
I told myself, just do it.
Run! Run! Run!
The mind was willing, the body too but twenty three minutes later I was done! I gave it one last all out run and I could do no more.
As I wiped down the treadmill I promised myself that I would never eat junk, cookies, ice cream and everything in between. I crawled over to the weights and did some half-assed routine then made my way to my room and took a long, extra hot shower.
I plowed through and felt great.
Last night.
Today I am feeling a bit sore. It does hurt so good!
I have cursed every Skittle, bowl of Breyers and her foreign cousin Haagen Daaz that have passed my lips as well as that extra cookie I took during the break yesterday.
No more! I solemnly swear.
After one last feast of course!
-r