After being woken up at the lovely hour of 5:45 in the Aye Em by an energetic perpetual motion machine, aka, the Puppy, after taking her outside to pee, I attempted to go back to bed and get a little more sleep.
The dogs, however, had other ideas. I figured this out when they started wrestling on the bed.
And that was my cue that any chance of sleep was over and done with so I said, "Ah, screw it!" and got out of bed.
After reading the paper, checking e-mails, Facebook, and the Twitter, I made a momentous decision, one that caused TheManTheMyth to ask, "Are you sure about this?"
I decided to go for a run.
Well, you see, in the last year, I have lost 20lbs (although 5 of the little bastards have managed to find their way back), I've run a 5K, completed the grueling AND brutal Palm Springs Tram Road Challenge and now I need to start training for the Surf City (Half) Marathon which will take place in February.
And this is the part where you may ask yourself, "My God, what have I done?!"
And this is also the part where you ask yourself, "Who are you and what have you done with Kelly?"
So I stuffed myself into my hideously ugly but extremely effective sports bra, the one that feels as if I'm wearing a corset but in the wrong place. This thing has 11 hooks! ELEVEN HOOKS, PEOPLE!!
And off I went.
And promptly discovered that when it's been a few months since I last actually ran, I lurch and stumble and look like Quasimodo dragging one leg behind him while gasping, "Sanctuary! Sanctuary, Master!"
Yeah, I'm a catch.
But I did get in a good 3 mile run/walk/stagger so, yay me!
And this was all possible because TheManTheMyth was home to babysit the pooches because I just can't bring either of them with me because they drag me down and I gotta move, people.
I also gotta get this goddamn bra off; it's killing me.