Track work is hard, but the good news is, it’s getting easier. You know, since the first time I did it, a week ago.
1.5 mile warmup, 5x400m with 100m recovery, 1.5 mile cool down.
And the other good news, I will NEVER get sick of a cheesy egg on an English muffin.
Like, NEVER EVER.
And then bacon. Because, well, BACON.
And then I decided to take a work selfie to show off my new shirt.
I’ve been calling this denim. Turns out, the entire world has been calling it chambray. I don't know when this started, but WHAT.THE.HECK.EVER. I can’t keep up. I quit.
But the actual best part of my outfit today were my purple PRO compression sleeves that I had hiding under my skinny pants all day long. Because compressed calves are soooooooo in right now.
Allow me to reiterate that I truly believe Target to be the GREATEST PLACE ON PLANET EARTH. If you disagree, then leave. I don’t meditate or do anything zen like that, but a mid-day Target trip has the power to totally change my outlook on life. How can you not be refreshed by a bag filled with three different kinds of Cheetos?!
And then this afternoon, I was reminded of the best part of my job. When people bring me goodies. Why, YES, Corner Bakery, I will gladly eat your free coffee cake and accept your coupons.
And coming home to mail like THIS IS MY FAVORITE!
UM. Yes! YES YES YES YES! I can't wait for this girl's big day!
And then me and the hubs hit up the gym. Cause we are REALLY healthy like that.
In case you were wondering, this is I feel about strength training.
I bitch and whine the ENTIRE TIME. It's a lot of "Are you KIDDING ME?! F*CK THAT!" and "HOLY SH*T THAT IS REALLY HEAVY!" This is not an exaggeration. This is real life.
(PS: Now accepting applications for workout buddies. I do not respond well to tough love. However, I do respond well to donuts and gym selfie sessions. CALL ME.)
Don't worry, I reward Taylor for putting up with my ridiculous and childish gym behavior by making him steak for dinner. And then I eat some too, because protein. Or something like that.
|Ooops. My remote might have some sweet potato and steak juices on it. #ohwell|
Lastly, can someone please tell me when I will start to feel married? Because despite all the cooking and cleaning, I still don’t. At least three times a day, Taylor and I look at each other all cock-eyed like,
“Soooooooo, we’re married? Do you feel married? I mean, do you feel different yet?”
“You mean other than the fact that your shit is EVERYWHERE and you’re ALWAYS here? Nope, I feel pretty much the same.”
So, yeah, still waiting for that to kick in.
Until then, it’s HIMYM reruns in bed with my best friend. Way too normal to be interesting.