And so do my bangs. They completely freak and shrivel up and point in the total opposite direction than they should. And that makes me curse. Bad.
Therefore, I do my best to avoid it.
Except a little over a year ago, I realized I’m getting older and should probably stop living (living = eating) like an 18 year old delinquent (delinquent = lazy ass me who hates to move unless there’s a fire threatening my life or a pizza delivery dude at the door).
August 2010 I started walking. Then the boobs shrunk down some and I kinda started jogging. They shrunk down even more so then I tried running.
So, I mix it up. Little walking, little jogging…back and forth.
And since now some really cute ass stuff fits me…I’m kinda liking it.
And, really. If I can’t give ME at least 30-45 minutes, 3-4 times a week…who’s the loser here? (Hint: You are. Cause I’ll publicly bitch about how even my earrings are too tight.)
This precious soul over in Australia (that’d be you Karyn), blogged a week or so ago with pics of where she runs. Loved it. (Especially since I’ve never been off the North American continent and well, odds are Australia ain’t gonna come to me.)
Breathtaking stuff here…take a look then you’ll see where the rest of my rattling comes from.
Told you. Never will you hear me say I was able to do some whale watching on my morning run.
So, I thought this morning I’d share what my little sweaty morning looked like.
It started like this. I got up way early for me. Like 7:17 am or something. Walked in the kitchen and found this looking at me:
Threw in some dishwashing liquid stuff, pulled the door up with my foot, cranked that bad boy on.
Then I went to my utility room. My feet were cold and well, I was sure I had socks in the dryer. Because we all know I hate folding clothes.
I’ve been pretty lax on my walking/jogging lately (ok, entire month of October…don’t judge) so right then and there decided I was heading to Town Lake to get my groove on.
(I actually didn’t think or even know I had a groove anymore. But down a 5-Hour Energy and 3 minutes later…BOOM! You got some groove!)
Ten minutes later, I’m in the car wondering if I even brushed my teeth. I’m headed downtown. And my groove is buckled up with me.
I get there 20 minutes later, park the car and here’s what I see:
I get my iPod (which is really just a cheap little wanna-be) ear piece things jammed in my ears and I start off for that trail you see.
Beyonce’ (No, not my little metal chicken. She ain’t into her health like I am.) is in my right ear with Crazy in Love because the damn left ear piece thing doesn’t seem to be working.
I round the corner of the trail headed up to Congress Street. I’ve decided I’m going to do downtown rather than just the trail.
I live on the edge like that. Daring, I know!
Now, from all this walking/jogging I’ve been doing…I’m drippy.
Stopping and doing the picture taking has made me look totally touristy. Some stare at me, but who cares. I sho’ don’t.
On my way back to the car THAT I SWEAR I WON’T SEE SOON ENOUGH, I see this stuff:
And you just can’t consider yourself in Austin if you don’t get to see a few protesters. We got’em all the time. I’ve always wanted to protest, but just for the sake of holding a sign and screaming at a news camera. I don’t even know what I’d protest about. I just wanna hold a sign and look like I’m all political.
But that would consists of moving and well…remember? Life threatening fire? Pizza dude at door?
I know. Odds are it ain’t happening.
But here’s our protesters:
I swear THIS is one reason I’m getting one of those new iPhones with the zoom lens for pics.
The protesters are piled high on those steps and I wanna zoom right in on them. Bad. Why?
They are passed out. All up in their warm little sleeping bags. They’re all up behind that tent. And get that. A tent. Somebody put some thought into all this.
I made it back to the car and took off for home. And now here I am…telling you about my morning.
The only thing better would be if you were there with me.
But only those of you who are kinda on the lazy side and not all obsessed with being healthy. Just kinda healthy.
And only those of you who wouldn’t make me jog when I couldn’t breath and could barely walk.
And only those of you who wouldn’t stare at my bangs 15 minutes into this torture.
Actually. I would really rather YOU take pics of where YOU walk/jog and send them to me and I’ll just pretend I’m with you.
Then I ain’t gotta sweat at all.
Love your day. And find laughter in it somewhere. Cause, tutz…it’s there.