Somehow, my coworker talked me into running a 2K in December. I came into work all prepared to just be in a bad mood because the Falcons lost, then I get talked into running. Geez, and it's Monday, how much stress can you give one person?
Here are some of the reasons she gave and I may have given myself when I thought long and hard about it:
1) My boss is sponsoring the run so in not-so-many words if I'd like to keep my job a long time I'd better get my booty out there. Plus he might be proud of me or something but I'm not exactly the top pick for winners in the office so that's a wait and see.
2) It's
only a 2K, which I come to understand is a mile and a quarter for us here in America. Yeah, yeah. Only a 2K.
3. I actually weighed myself this morning for the first time in a while and the news was not good.
4. Then I ate a cookie for breakfast.
So you see why I have to. I came home and sent a picture and rude note to my coworker of my beginning "training":
I have a treadmill at home. I don't use it. We had to move stuff off of it for me to use it. Surprise. Notice the inhaler. I could have been killed.
I ran and walked a mile in record time. What I mean by
record is the longest time ever in history to get through a mile. Not really, but I only started liking it toward the end. I actually love running, but after a bad knee excuse, a fat girl excuse, and an asthma excuse, I always talk myself out of it. I just need some inspiration.
, drained
