BOOYAH. I ran. Last night. All by my own self with my very own shoes. CANYOUBELIEVEIT? I got off my fluffy, lazy ass and did it, after a bit of a hiatus. (Hiatus sounds more serious than "I was just too damn lazy).
Turns out it was approximately 14-trillion degrees outside after work (or 78, but the humidity was chewable), so Tim's loverly wife, Jess, hooked me up with a day pass to her gym - which just so happens to be within walking distance from my apartment.
So I ran in the comfort of artificial cool air. FANTASTIC.
That doesn't mean I didn't sweat like a bitch. Man, did I sweat. When did I become such a sweater? I = disgusting, in case you were curious.
It'd been a hot minute since I've been on a treadmill, but I slammed out seven miles and called it a day.
Ahhhh. So nice...
Actually, it wasn't that wonderful because running on a treadmill makes me want to poke out my eyes, but I was grateful to avoid the humidity.
So I did it. I ran. Seven miles. And just for good measure, I pumped out some push-ups before I went to bed.
Hell, I'm ready for another three-week break...