Wednesday, August 1, 2007

Her Name Is Rio And She Dances On The Sand

I woke up in a funk today. I logged at least twenty-five deep sighs before ten o’clock.

“Do you want to go to the museum tomorrow?” Sheila IM’ed.

“I don’t know,” I responded. “I’m despondent.”

Finally, I left for the Y to try to swim away the bad attitude.

On the way there, I called Rachel, who tolerated about ten additional audible sighs. I could tell the funk was extra thick because I was speaking longingly to her about going back to school.

After I got to the Y, I stood in the vestibule for a few minutes, sighing and droning on until I decided to just get on with the exercise.

“Call me back later,” Rachel said.

“Sure,” I agreed. “I’ll probably have to call you because I’ll go in and weigh myself and discover that I have yet to lose a single pound this summer despite working out for -- wait for it -- FIVE HOURS EVERY WEEK.”

And then sure enough.


Undomestic said...

I hear you on that. And my husband starts running one mile...someitmes two a couple days a week, and he loses 9 pounds! Where's the justice!

Anne said...

I'm sorry you're feeling despondent. But congrats on the triathlon--you have more guts (and obviously, athletic inclination) than I could even fathom.

Tomorrow 'm leaving for my second 10-day trip--in three weeks. At least I can praise the Lord that summer school is over. Let's get together when I get home. I'll email you.

abby said...

Forgot to comment on this earlier. A friend from work is training for marathons but for some reason no longer fits in most of her pants. And she's mad-skinny like you. So you're not alone.