It's no secret. I spent July through September wallowing in self pity about my bitchy calf, eating 3000 calories of shitty food a day, and drinking more wine than the Real Housewives of Orange County.
I've also developed a nasty habit of napping during the day, and rekindled an even nastier addiction to Cheetos. (I blame my childhood.)
I weigh more now than when I gave birth to my child. HOLY CRAPCAKES.
Oh but thank God, I forced myself to do the Rock n Roll last weekend... all 157 pounds of me, because somewhere in those 13 miles I rediscovered my mojo. My love of running, feeling strong and healthy, that I hadn't figured out until my 38th year of life, was reawakened. Thank the LORD!
These last few months of slackassedness have made me feel blah, bloated and beleaguered. I've been slapped in the face with the realization that even though working out/running/stretching SUCKS, the alternative is even worse.
So, what better way to jumpstart my mojo than to commit to another race, right?
Hello Charleston Half Marathon. I'll be seeing you in January! Woot woot!!
Yes. I am HALF crazy!
My honey has embraced his role as a half marathoner hubby, so all is good.
Oh yeah, let's go ahead and add another bit o' bling to the rack!
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