So ever since I dropped my IPizzle in a giant vat of dookie the day before yesterday and was unwilling to fish it out (my reluctance to do so came as a surprise to many people, much to my confusion), I have been trying to think of creative ways to work out without dying of boredom and thus negating all the benefits of physical conditioning. Since yesterday was a crisp, clear day and I had the whole day off, I decided to take a run on the beach over on Sullivan's Island. It was so beautiful and inviting and deserted, I couldn't help but silently congratulate myself on my brilliant plan to distract myself from the fact that I was exercising. So I ran at a brisk pace up to the end of the beach, touched the sign that warns all swimmers of instantaneous death-by-riptide and/or $500 fine for entering the water, and turned back. All in all, about a 40 minute run. At the end I felt fantastic--like I was in an Anthropologie magazine or something.
Then I woke up this morning. You might not be able to make out the face, but that is a picture of me walking from my car to work.
Moral of the story: Never run on the beach. Ever.
No comments:
Post a Comment