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| This stuff saves |
Three weeks ago I caught a cold. It was a nasty one, something that can only come from the breeding ground of disease, preschool. I should have expected a health rough patch because I bought running clothes, which always results in me falling off the workout wagon. It never fails, after I plunk down serious coinage on high end athletic attire, I end up encountering an unforeseen issue, that leaves me stagnate for a period of time.
I bought long sleeve running shirts because it is a smidgen chilly in the morning, and running in a sweatshirt is not quite as easy as the marvelously engineered, lightweight, breathable running hoodies by New Balance.
I'm usually a proponent for workout clothes that look like the kind of thing one would save for washing their toilets; old t-shirts with holes in them, and shorts or leggings. If I see someone in a Lulu Lemon ensemble, I generally stamp the word "Fraud" over their forehead, and roll my eyes thinking of the great "see thru pants" incident, and how the cost of their outfit is the same as a plane ticket to Hawaii.
The only perk of having a cold is getting to "feed a cold." So I get to have a free for all, knowing its for a greater cause, getting back to 100%. Now that my cold has passed, and I have fine running sweatshirts, I need to get back on the wagon, and literally, hit the ground running in the morning.
I can tell three weeks of not running and consuming food like a truck driver has softened me a bit, but the number on the scale has not changed. That number never makes sense to me, so it's not surprising it hasn't changed when it should have spiked ten pounds. I generally think I look much smaller than the scale number suggests. A type of body dysmorphia that works in my favor. I look at the scale and say, "No way, Jose. I look much smaller than that."
I think it's because I come from dense stock. You'd think that would help me in the cold weather.
I bought long sleeve running shirts because it is a smidgen chilly in the morning, and running in a sweatshirt is not quite as easy as the marvelously engineered, lightweight, breathable running hoodies by New Balance.
I'm usually a proponent for workout clothes that look like the kind of thing one would save for washing their toilets; old t-shirts with holes in them, and shorts or leggings. If I see someone in a Lulu Lemon ensemble, I generally stamp the word "Fraud" over their forehead, and roll my eyes thinking of the great "see thru pants" incident, and how the cost of their outfit is the same as a plane ticket to Hawaii.
The only perk of having a cold is getting to "feed a cold." So I get to have a free for all, knowing its for a greater cause, getting back to 100%. Now that my cold has passed, and I have fine running sweatshirts, I need to get back on the wagon, and literally, hit the ground running in the morning.
I can tell three weeks of not running and consuming food like a truck driver has softened me a bit, but the number on the scale has not changed. That number never makes sense to me, so it's not surprising it hasn't changed when it should have spiked ten pounds. I generally think I look much smaller than the scale number suggests. A type of body dysmorphia that works in my favor. I look at the scale and say, "No way, Jose. I look much smaller than that."
I think it's because I come from dense stock. You'd think that would help me in the cold weather.
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| Dipshit duck lips in an awesome fleece |
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