So every once in a while (read: every two weeks), I go running in the morning. I walk over to Central Park, jog around the pond, then head back home. The whole thing maybe takes a total of 20 minutes.
And so now I ask you this: on a scale of one to you monster, how bad is it that every time I head home all I want to do is grab a donut from the corner and ride the subway 6 blocks home?
It's shocking, really, that I'm not a better runner.
It shouldn't surprise me, though. Back at BYU, Gretchen and I would sometimes go running at the indoor track together. Several times, we would get there only to find out that it was closed for a track meet. It would be logical, then, to assume that we ran outside that day. Ha. We did not. We jumped right back into our car and headed straight to Dairy Queen's drive-thru.
Blizzards instead of workouts?
It's a win-win in my book.
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