Did you hear that? It was the sound of me bashing my own skull against my coffee table. There I was, sipping Bengal Spice tea,...Read More
What’s that they say about the best laid schemes of mice and men?
Imagine the scene:
I’m parked at the hotel room desk, updating my blog, reading email, waking up… usual morning stuff. In my peripheral vision, I can see Dave putting on his running clothes.
“Are these my shorts?” he said.
I looked up to see him stuffed in black shorts with the trademark Adidas triple white stripe down the side. But he doesn’t own Adidas shorts… I do.
“You. [guffaw] are. [giggle] wearing. [snort] my. [chuckle] shorts. [giggle][giggle][giggle]. You look like Will Ferrell!”
My size medium shorts somehow ended up in his size large drawer at home. Ooops!
Dave pulled my shorts off in disgust, and we formulated a plan: Head to Academy, get him some running shorts in his actual size, THEN hit Reverchon Park.
Done! Plans are made; crisis averted.
I put on my running skirt, tank top, watch, socks… where are my running shoes?
Where. are. my. running. shoes?
WHERE ARE MY F*CKING RUNNING SHOES?
They’re sitting back at home in the glamour room, naturally. Because when I left my pile of clothing for Dave to pack while I was at w0rk, I forgot my running shoes.
So now we’re showering and heading to breakfast, because clearly, there is some sinister force at work – or perhaps, a benevolent force protecting us from impending doom on the Turtle Creek Trail.
Whatever. We give.
But we’re doing our AMRAP workout tomorrow in Eilers Park. I WILL run up stone stairs this weekend.