Running. If I ever think there will be a time in my life when I'm no longer running, it would only happen due to inability to do so. Santa is working against me.
You know, I don't even celebrate the darn holiday. Christmas that is. But, somehow my house became full of sweets and savories. Way too much stuff that only belongs on the "occasional treat" list. My undoing today has been Swedish Fish.
Damn Swedish Fish.
I love Swedish Fish. I never buy Swedish Fish. Ok, maybe not "never buy," but I can honestly say they only make their way into my house at best once or twice a year. Somehow that diabolical Santa came down my non-existent chimney and deposited a pound of Swedish Fish.
I made it 4 days before opening the bag.
They're open. On my counter. Staring at me.
Who eats ONE Swedish Fish?
I don't admire those Victoria Secret model people. No, not at all. If I read one more story of a size negative 2 professing her "love of food" I'll scream. I'm pretty sure they are not eating. And, certainly not eating Swedish Fish.
I ran sprints earlier this week. Something went "twang" in my hip, and its been slow going since. I'm picking and choosing my workout battles. I have a friend who offered me up her spare Trikke earlier this summer. I haven't had time to add it into my workouts. I think now is the time. Running, which I desperately need to continue thanks to my Swedish Fish fail, is painful. Last time I had an injury like this, it took months to heal. Months? Cannot spare that now.
Damn Swedish Fish! Did I mention?!
Tomorrow I expect to be a first timer on the Trikke. I've been trained on it, but it's a whole different beast when you're out there alone with something like that for the first time.
Damn Swedish Fish. Damn Damn Swedish Fish.
I have to pass the bag when I finish this post. Somebody, anybody, HELP!
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