This morning, I went for a pathetic, red-faced yog. I’m 98.5% sure I passed Mischa Barton. That is all.
I’m also not really a runner. Are you sensing a pattern here? I like to swim and ride my bike, sheesh! I don’t have a bicycle here because the idea of riding on the same streets as these crazy taxi drivers scares the scheiße out of me. And swimming is a venture yet to come, as soon as I purchase a non-bikini and figure out exactly why the Palladium pool intimidates me so much.
Anyway, despite the fact that I was on the high school track team, running has never been one of my strong points. My knees get sore, I wheeze, I get bored and start counting or repeating nonsense phrases in my head… it’s not pretty. Nonetheless, I believe that running is one of the most complete workouts and, hey, maybe it’s time running and I resolved our differences.
As it turns out, I’m not the worst runner, and I can even run farther than 2 miles. Astonishingly. All it takes is odd people to ogle and the promise of coffee at the next block to draw me along. Who knew?