All right chickens, we’re halfway to the weekend already.
And in the Second City, the sun is out again.
Which is a point of thankfulness, in my estimation.
This morning I bundled myself up for morning workout #2 this week, which was only slightly less painful than yesterday.
Something about running when you’re half asleep is just too much from me. I expect that one of these days I’ll just fall right off the treadmill.
But so far, so good.
The morning workouts have been good for a number of reasons, among them the fact that the Y has apparently started some kind of program which I can only assume is called “Put every child in the neighborhood under 8 in a bathing suit and run them around the locker room screaming.”
Literally, at six every evening I have been there, children are scurrying around the locker room with wet feet, whooping and laughing and generally running amuck.
I love kids, don’t get me wrong.
What I don’t love is them both staring and running me down in the hallway.
Although a little girl asked me to reach something for her on a shelf the other night, and it very nearly made my day.
People don’t generally ask me to reach things for them, you see.
Since I’m about the same height as your average eleven-year old.
In any case, the most disconcerting thing that happened to me this morning was that a trainer demanded to know if I had ever been to Long John Silver’s.
I informed him my shoreline upbringing kind of discouraged the national chain seafood restaurant.
I think he might have stared me down too.
I might have to explore the lunchtime workout.
Have a good day, chickadees!