Born to Walk

I used to use the phrase, "sweating like a pig," but then I found out pigs don't actually sweat, so right off the bat we know two things:

1) either I am not a pig, or,
2) pigs are just really good at hiding it.

At any rate, I am terrifically "glowy," having just finished another 6.5 miles on the treadmill.

And by "another," I mean that the same thing happened yesterday.

My new incentive? Nighttime TV. Viewing the odd autopsy on CSI:NY puts a treadmill workout in a favorable light. You certainly can rack up the miles when immersed in a crime lab!

You can also sweat a lot.

Usually I have put in 3 miles by lunchtime, and an evening hour show is easily good for 3 or 3.5 more, though you have to ramp up the speed a tad for that extra half mile.

(did you ever notice that people who are dieting talk about food and exercise...like, ALL THE TIME?

Don't they know that people get tired of hearing about it?

Don't they realize that just because they went outside again and pruned two more apple trees and carved away half a pear tree, that the rest of us have lives, fer cryin' out loud?

It's almost as if people on a fierce regimen think it's hard or something, and they have to psych themselves up to the task. Pat themselves on the back. When in reality, we all KNOW it's a piece of cake and if they could just be great like us, they TOO could have wonderful lives that revolve around....whatever.

And another thing...I've noticed that fitness/diet nuts are quite susceptible to taking on new personalities...almost as if they talk outside themselves...it's weird--the worst cases can be identified by excessive use of ellipses)

But getting back to reality, it's time to sit back and relax with Carolyn and Ethan as we voyage with Captain Kirk, Spock and...some guy named Khan.
 

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