R.O.D.(Run of the Day)
Today’s run was limited by, wait for it…my busted ass. Yes, you read that correctly: I currently have a snowboard injury-induced busted ass. More formally, a bruised tailbone. But let’s be honest; it’s so much more fun to tell people you busted your ass while snowboarding!
Regardless, as I’m currently relegated to all that is wonderful about driving to work (absolutely nothing), I will be doing more running than biking this week–which is a damn good thing considering I’m confirmed for the Chicago Marathon in October.
And so it is that my daily workout consisted of a 4-mile run to the local Citizens Bank and back. 2.01 miles there; 2.01 miles back. While I’m not usually a fan of the out & back loop (perhaps I have undiagnosed ADHD, yes?), today’s run proved absolutely fabulous as I sprinted by the poor suckers stuck in rush-hour traffic. With each green light turning yellow, I forced myself to pick up the pace in order to cross the intersection before the light was red (and the Massholes had an actual reason to run me over as opposed to the standard ‘run the red light practices’ I usually endure.). All in all, a wonderful 4 miles to tack onto this week’s total mileage.
M.O.D. (Musing of the Day)
Speaking of broken asses, I have to dedicate today’s MOD to the very subject of the bootay. More specifically, the sagging of the bootay. Why does this happen? Why are (mostly) women plagued by the reality that growing old automatically means we are sentenced to a post-30s/40s life of a flat, saggy ass no matter our best intentions?
As much as I’d love to wave a giant middle finger to this topic, I can’t ignore its existence in our culture and lives today. So what’s a hot lass supposed to do? Deprive myself of all that is glorious when it comes to (over)indulging in gourmet chocolates, microbrew beers, and home-cooked meals laden with animal carcass, cheese, and pasta?! Does starving myself today ensure a bountiful, perky ass tomorrow?? I think not!
According to my $10 Old Navy jeans (yes, I’m cheap when it comes to shopping; I dare you to mock me or make fun of me so I can show you my savings/retirement accounts and gloat that when I leave the workforce, I’ll be the one being fanned by the Fabio-esque pool boys while lounging on the beaches of Bora Bora), my bootay is in danger of entering the “near flat” phase of life. In response to this new, very ugly, phenomenon, I offer the following Ode to the Ass:
I hereby pledge to placate you with multiple, daily lunges, a half hour’s worth of jump-roping each morning, and a plethora of Shape, Self, and Health Magazine “Improve Your Butt in 10 Seconds or Less” workouts. I also promise to love you, outfit you in jeans that cost a bit more than $10, and fill you with a diet rich in antioxidants.
In return, I can only hope that my ass fulfills its duty of filling out my jeans as originally planned. However, should you see me on the street in what resembles ANYTHING like a pair of mom jeans, please do stop me abruptly, wrestle me to the ground, and beat some fashion sense into me. Mom of babies? But of course. 30-something wearing Mom jeans? HELL to the “No.”