Thoughts I was having during my mere 30 minute run last night:
I love you Eminem, and your white trash parties.
This isn’t so bad.
How can I possibly be breathing so loudly?
Eminem, you’re kind of messed up, dude.
My legs are gonna fall off.
Was that triathlon a dream?
You like this, remember.
You hate this.
Then I looked at the treadmill clock, and noticed I’d been running for fifteen minutes.
I turned my attention to focus on Eminem’s new album, and painfully finished out my run.
This morning, I’m smarting. Both from delayed Russian kettlebell pain, and follow up pain from my run on sore legs.
Today I’ll be taking a rest day, chicks.
Tomorrow I have a rematch with the Russian.
At 8:30 in the morning.
Something’s wrong with me, friends.
Up this weekend: marketing, making something great in my kitchen (maybe just a mess?), going to see this with JW tonight, playing soccer, and finally seeing the last episode of Dexter just as the next season starts.
And now, I’m off to walk the wet and windy city in my flip flops.
I think it’s a good idea.
P.S. Someone else (besides my sorella) tell me that the way Mockingjay ended wasn’t quite right. Also, attention young author authors: your epilogues are corny. Leave us wanting more.