Alright, late 20s. You can just fuck right off.
At some point over the last 5 years, my metabolism went on extended vacay. It was all like, "I'm peace-ing out!" It didn't leave a note. There wasn't a moving truck. That shit just hit the road and left all of its stuff behind.
Fast forward to now when I want to continue to eat like a college student but my pants are all like, "YOU'RE STRETCHING US. WE AREN'T MADE TO BEND LIKE THATTTTT!"
So, I guess it's time to get off my behind and get moving. A friend of mine had a brand new treadmill that she needed to get rid of. I needed to take it. For the last several days, I have been getting reacquainted with running. There was a time when I ran 5-ish miles a day.
...It will be a while before we get back to that. If ever. Fucking late 20s making things harder then they were in my early 20s. Assholes.
I did 1.1 miles of intervals this morning. I got up at 5 a.m. and hit the moving belt. It's way cooler to say "hit the streets," but the belt is just so much closer.
Now, if I could just shake this chest cold that has been with me for two weeks. That too can fuck right off.
As always, it's hip to be square (square, you hear me?!), kids.