Inspired by the slew of pink workout tops I bought yesterday, I finally dragged my sorry ass to the gym. It was still pouring outside, and I'm a pansy, so to the treadmill I went.
It was ... fine. I wouldn't say that I've lost very much running fitness, but we all know the treadmill isn't the jolliest of places. The only one available (at 9pm, no less) was not facing a TV, so I could only stare at my reflection in the window for the time I was chugging along. And as gorgeous and fascinating as my reflection is, it's not quite as entertaining after the first 10 minutes. So I zoned out for a bit (hmm, I need new sports bra ... and my shirt is riding up ... and that guy behind me looks like Ben Stiller in the Zoolander, complete with the headband ... that was a very funny movie ... he wore a red leather suits ... men in suits ... I should go clubbing with men in suits ... but I like to sleep ... I want to go to bed right now ... but no, I have to run ... hmm, I need a new sports bra ...). Imagine about 30 minutes worth of that.
- 4.5 miles, 37:58, 8:26 pace
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