Remember when I used to run? Yeah, I barely do. Since a total upheaval in my work life, I haven't had any sort of consistent exercise. At all. And my eating habits have fallen by the wayside. So I thought to myself, "Self, it's time to get your butt in gear." I recruited Jillian Michaels. And for 20 minutes this evening, I fantasized about being dead. Because she's killin' me, folks.
Oh. My. Word.
(No, I'm not trying to lose 20 pounds. So don't get all "losing weight is one thing, losing perspective is another" on me. I just want to not die of disuse atrophy.)
I'm typing this merely to hold myself accountable to taking care of myself. So I'll be jogging, "shredding," consuming massive quantities of veggies and pursuing a little more sleep in the coming weeks. You have permission to yank me away from the computer* and take the chocolate out of my hands. And are more than welcome to go for a nice long walk with me.
How long? This long.
*Unless I'm in the middle of typing the world's greatest sentence. Give me a minute to finish being brilliant, then pull me away.