I can't believe it's been seventeen days already!
I must have been even more tired last night than I realized, because I slept through my alarm and missed spin class this morning. After breakfast I went to a core conditioning class. I'd say it kicked my butt, but technically that's not part of my core... it kicked my abs and lats? Then I did 30 minutes on the bike, before having a chat with Dad and taking a second shower. (I shower a lot here. I *sweat* a lot here. It's both gross and kind of cool.)
After lunch I had therapy, followed by a session with my trainer, who pounded my arms into little bitty puddly things. Seriously, I don't know how I have the strength to type right now. By tomorrow I expect I won't be able to lift a fork... wait a minute... I sense a dastardly plan in action.....
I went from the weights straight to group therapy, over which I must draw a sacred veil of absolute silence, because you're not allowed to know about our secret martini parties. I mean, um.
Ignore that part.
Then I had a class on stress management. I realized that one area I'm going to have trouble staying structured is when I eat with unstructured friends (read: everybody.) So I formulated a plan of attack: I'm going to pre-structure meals at all my favorite restaurants, so when someone suggests eating at, say, Three Guys, to pick a totally random place I never eat at, I'll be able to whip out a 3 x 5 index card and say, "show me no menu! I shall have THIS. Thank you very much, and charge it please!"
After dinner was stretch class, my favorite 50 minutes of the day. Then I ran to Target (and by ran, I mean was driven) with two friends for a 5 minutes-to-pick up some necessities trip. We were all so sore, it was ridiculous. We looked like 90-year-olds, hobbling along clutching our backs and sides and moaning.
And on that note, I'm off to soak these old bones in a hot, hot tub, before being enveloped by the welcoming comfort of my bed.
Talk to you manana!
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