Well, the last three days in a row have been a bust for running. With a new job, new summer classes to teach, and bowling, I haven't had time to run. I know, I know, many running publications advise you to make time to run, but sometimes it's just plain hard to find the time. Unless of course, you wake at the ass-crack of dawn and get out there. But let me tell you a little something about myself: I am not one of those people.
Or at least not anymore.
I used to be that kind of person. When I was in high school and even in early college years, I used to get up at whatever hour I needed to to get the run done, but now I have to pry myself from bed when the alarm goes off. I'm not going to push it because I keep hearing that as you age, your sleep clock resets itself and you start to naturally rise earlier. Must be true, because my parents rise at the first peak of the sun on the horizon, and my grandpa can't sleep past six am. When I stayed with my grandpa last spring, my clock got set for grandpa hours, but I've got to let you know, when you get up that early, you're no good beyond nine/nine thirty at night.
And that's when it's time for two shots of Slippery Nipples! Well, it shouldn't be, but that's what time it was last night, and my goodness, I felt like poo this morning. And unfortunately, when you drink too much on a weeknight, as I am prone to do, you also completely abandon the ideas behind "portion control." That's why I practically swallowed those jalapeno poppers whole and scarfed down the last of the chocolate ice cream right out of the bucket (I practically licked the remains out of there!), and that my friends, is not the way to "watch what you eat."
Perhaps, I should try to refrian from excess, but it's just too hard! Especially when someone else is buying the shots.