Good morning, chickens.
We’re very nearly to the weekend.
Last night, I was unable to complete my run due to a later exit from the office and a meet up with a couple of my pals.
When I got home, I felt moderately guilty about this.
But not so guilty that I wanted to head out into the cold night for a run.
Instead, I resolved to pull out my old, long-forgotten Shred DVD to get in a little cross training.
Except after I’d changed, rolled out my yoga mat, and located my hand weights, I realized the DVD is missing.
This seems to be a common theme in my life.
Not yet ready to admit defeat, and not digging the idea of yoga, I pawed through my collection of exercise DVDs until I found a Mari Winsor cardio burn pilates DVD.
Ok, I thought. This could work.
It was still in the plastic.
What happened next was probably the most hysterical half hour of my life, although I am 100% content with the fact that no one saw it.
It turns out that the video was less pilates, and more, um, cha cha.
Yes, there were dance moves.
I had planned on showing you a clip, but it turns out it’s hard to locate on YouTube.
Probably because it’s so embarrassing.
I literally jazz-hand-ed and shimmied all over my living room.
I couldn’t stop laughing, which probably assisted with the calorie burn.
Also, let it be known that the music was provided by a bongo-ing trio of island men, who smiled in the background every so often.
This is what I get for not sticking to the plan.
This morning, I woke myself up to get in five miles before work, and decided to take it to the treadmill, since it’s 34 degrees out.
I forgot how much I hate the treadmill.
And although I made it through the five miles, it was a pretty mentally draining feat of strength.
I’m headed outside tomorrow for my nine-miler, even if it’s snowing.
Don’t take me at my word on that one, chickadees.