Yesterday, I decided to get in with the spirit of the Olympics and head for one long ass run/walk over to my friend's house. The BF had just returned from his 72-hour non-stop bachelor party in Chicago. Since he was going to occupy the living room for the next 12 hours and I was "moving too fast" around the place for him, I decided to run over to my friend's house. Truth be told, I'm really out of shape. I mean, it's bad. I'm 25-years-old and a 12-year-old could beat me in a mile. Hell, I bet I can't even run a 10-minute mile. (OK, it's not really that bad, but this last month has thrown my work outs for a loop. I was doing so good before!)
I leave with no cell phone (yes!) and start running to her house. I figured I wouldn't be back for awhile because it's about 3 miles to her place and the BF would be passed out, so no one would need to reach me. By the time I visited with her neighbors, drank a gallon of water and ran back, even though they insisted on driving me home.
(Editor's note: Hello! My whole point is to get back into tip-top shape.)
Anyway, it had been almost two hours since I left and I had no idea of time because I was in my own little world, listening and singing along to Rihanna. I walk up to our place, dripping in sweat because I thought I was Jackie Joyner Kersee and the BF is walking out of our place, looking around for something.
Me: Nearly out of breath, "Heeeyyyyy."
BF: "Where have you been?"
Me: "Um, being an Olympic athlete."
BF: "I called Michelle and she said she hasn't seen you. I was going to drive around and look for you."
Me: "What? Why would you do that? Where would you even start?"
BF: "I don't know, but you've been gone for two hours and scared the shit out of me."
Me: "Awww, you were going to search for me."
BF: "Yes. Who goes running that long?" Then he notices my condition, "Wow- you are a sweaty mess."
Who said getting in shape was pretty?