It's no secret, I'm not a huge fan of my gym. But it's affordable, close, and offers classes - which I need 'cause lately I have no motivation to make myself excercise. I need a perky, annoying-as-f*uck-perfect-bodied chick yelling at me, asking me if my thighs are screaming at me, or some equally annoying/cheery/motivating sentiment.
Also...I'm chicken-shit to run by myself, because since the split, all solo runs have ended in tears. There's nothing wrong with crying, but sometimes I need a break from the whole thinking process. And running always brings on the thinking.
But it's a Saturday night, I wanted to get some endorphins going, so I went to the gym to see what would happen.
I was a rock star. I decided on sprint/jogs in hopes that that would help keep the tears away.
Like seriously, this sign is actually required?!?!
Anyway, about 20 minutes into my run, someone came over to me to tell me the gym was closed. Um...maybe they could have told me that when I walked in the door? I was generally doing okay, no tears in sight (haha), and now this ghetto-gym is kicking me out.
But I didn't give up. I walked to my (borrowed truck), dropped off my water bottle, and finished the last ten-ish minutes in the parking lot. There's a hotel and a Swiss Chalet, so there was plenty of light.
(The picture is so blurry 'cause I'm THAT fast. Ha!)
I looked like a freak, I froze my ass off, but No One is gonna screw with the time I've set aside to run. This is the real, stubborn, motivated me that I like.
And then I came home and Eden had bought me a slurpee. I haven't gone all hid wild on the slurpee, but man it's nice to live in a province that sells slurpees.