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Santa baby, just slip a Garmin under the tree for me; been an awful good girl, Santa baby, a pair of running shoes too, light blue; Santa baby, I want a PR... and really that's not a lot... So hurry down the chimney tonight!
Four stages of a man's life: 1. you believe in Santa 2. you don't believe in Santa 3. you are Santa 4. you look like Santa
Dear treadmill, I hate you.. but I need you. Relationships are complicated.
My eating habits range from a fitness model running enthusiast to hungry unsupervised child in a candy store.
When we're young, we sneak out of our houses to go to parties. When we're old, we sneak out of the parties to go home.
Running helps me maintain my "never killed anyone" streak.
1% of the population will run a marathon in their lifetime; it's their obligation to talk about it so the remaining 99% will know what they are missing.
I hate when I say I wanna lose weight and people say "you could quit drinking". Like... ok, I could quit eating too but let's be realistic about this.
You know you're a runner when... you see 5k and automatically think 3.1 miles, not $5000
Nutritional labels should include a "What if I ate the whole damn thing" section.
1. DENIAL 2. ANGER 3. BARGAINING 4. DEPRESSION 5. ACCEPTANCE My stages of getting ready for treadmill.
Joggers bounce up and down at red lights. Runners just stand there, looking pissed.
I just don't want to look back and think "I could've eaten that."
Woke up in running clothes. I really admire drunk me and her ambitions.
Nutritionist: You should eat 1400 calories a day. Me: Ok, and how many at night?
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