Yesterday was my first sweat of the year... and I did it hungover as all hell.
I suppose the goal to sweat every day this year shouldn't be derailed just because I was dehydrated and miserable. And what better way to detox than a trip to the ol' gym.
So after a morning of being curled up in the fetal position in my favorite chair, I met the Madam Adam at the gym. Adam and I have been friends for years. He was the only gay in my small hometown, and we mutually fell in love with each other while both starring in our high school's production of Little Shop of Horrors. A few weeks ago he told me I had free reign to call him any name I wanted to get his ass into the gym. So three days a week I call him up and call him chubby and he meets me for some cardio.
Saturday was a struggle so we opted to hit the elipticals, which normally I'm completely against because I feel it is a machine for people who want to look like they are working hard but really aren't. But I sweated my balls off and probably every ounce of alcohol left in my system.
Then the Madam and I walked on the elevated track to cool down and drink some fluids... and of course, check out the 6'5" ginger headed runner we've now decided to gym stalk. I have no idea what his name is, but Adam and I figured it was something sturdy like Michael or Parker, and he came from a good family and owned labs.
This is what we do. We imagine.
Today, although it is December, it is nearly 70 degrees outside so I decided to take advantage and go for a run on Indian Creek Trail. The trail itself is something like 17 miles long and winds through all the southern Johnson County burbs. I can hop on it about 25 yards from my house, so its super convenient. I ended up running just short of 3 miles. This is where I get to post the obligatory picture of my new running kicks. They are my new obsession, and frankly make me want to workout more than anything else.
Fuck you, if you think that is shallow. Whatever it takes to get me moving, I figure.
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