Seems the hardest thing to do is to keep yourself motivated. I went out tonight for an easy three miler and felt I could do at least two more when I finished. It was a cool night. Like 67 degrees. Perfect running weather. Not too crisp, not too humid. Just how I like it. During the 1st and 3rd mile mark, I did burp up a little bit of spaghetti sauce that I probably shouldn't have eaten just before I went out. But hey, it never made it past my molers. So I'm happy about that. Currently I'm trying to get my life back in order. So if you don't hear from in a while again. Please be patient. I'm loyal. I promise.
Forgot what number I'm at.
But anywhoo.
I'd like to make it TO space before I die. And live to tell about it. In a SPACESHIP, such as a SHUTTLE, or Space POD of some sort.
And pardon the CAPS, but some of the more persnickety, literary types occasionally need clarification when it comes to posting vague or assumptive writings. Sorry! Geez.
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4 comments:
How's this for motivation: your sister will smoke your butt in the Peachtree if you don't get out there and train like your manhood depended on it! You can't let your big sister beat you, can you?!
That should be your training mantra: must...beat...sister...
:)
Yeah, you're right. That would be horrible! Must...smoke...hedwah...
Manhood...must...remain...
Make what in space?
Funny.
Obviously, I meant to write "make it TO space"
TO space...sheesh. C'mon, let's have some slack here.
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