I just ran for 30 minutes. Outside. In nature. Where there are hills and cars that will hit you if you don’t get out of their way. And then had to walk up all of my stairs. I’m pooped.
See how my face is rosey except for the part around my mouth? When I was in elementary school rockin it on the kickball field, I used to be teased for looking like Santa Clause. FYI, it had been at least 30 minutes since I had stopped running when this picture was taken, so imagine how much more flushed I am in the moment. Today’s lesson, don’t tease your friends when their face turns red and they can’t help it. You can, however, feel free to tease your friends when they trip and fall on their faces. As long as there is no life threatening injury.
Also, you may not know this, but I married the man who held the vertical jump record for Appalachian State University at least until he graduated. Possibly even longer. He’s also the fastest jogger I’ve seen (I’ll admit he’s no Usain Bolt.). By that I mean I’ll be running with him, my exercise = his warm up, then he’ll take off for his exercise and his feet are moving at the same speed but he’s flying. Literally, it’s like he’s just floating above the ground at twice my speed. And not sweating. And carrying on a conversation like I’m his beautician. I hate him.
No, I don’t hate him. I’m just jealous. But I’ll get there some day. Some day I will be stronger or faster or smarter than him in some capacity. Even if he just happens to break both of his thumbs and I have to open jars for him, I’ll revel in it.