What I would like to do is just fill this space up with lots of exclamation points, but I suppose I'll use words. I just got off the scale for my Tuesday weigh-in, and I'm down FIVE POUNDS from last week. FIVE. I can guarantee my diet has not improved in the last seven days, nor has my running improved much, so I'm sure it's a case of less bloat and water weight this time around, but still. FIVE POUNDS.
I'm so happy, squeeeeeee...
And onto the next good news: I have a round-trip flight to D.C. booked for the marathon! I'll fly in Saturday, run Sunday, sight-see Monday and fly home Tuesday. So happy. So, so, so happy.
If I happen to run into George W. along the way, I think I'll give him a piece of my mind. Like, "WHY DO YOU HATE AMERICA?! Fill up my gas tank now!" Or something.
And lastly, my sister will be escorting me to see Jason Mraz in November as an early Christmas gift, O-M-G. I am screaming so loudly. On the inside, of course. They frown upon that sort of thing at work.
Speaking of concerts, I've got a hot date to see Counting Crows, Maroon 5 and Sara Bareilles on Saturday night, too.
COULD LIFE GET ANY BETTER?! No. No it couldn't. Unless maybe I could get off my ass and run a good 16- or 17-miler.
Oh, sigh. What a good Tuesday this is. All of this goodness will stop my bitching and moaning for at least two or five days.