It's been a while. Several months, to be honest. And last night, after I spent a few minutes trying to remember how to start you up, you kicked my trash. We only spent 23 minutes and 1.45 miles together but I think it's safe to say it was harder than giving birth. Oh wait. I had an epidural. But you know what I mean. Jake told me to stretch out and I did but today the tops of my thighs are sore. That better mean something, like... they're getting smaller. You'll be seeing a lot more of me, my little Tready. I want to run with the best of 'em (a.k.a. Amy & Melissa). Next time: thirty minutes. Watch out.
Sincerely,
Thunder Thighs
2 comments:
Dear Thunder Thighs,
Sorry I kicked your trash, I have a "one track" mind and can only work when I am wanted or needed. Your soreness is a result of our efforts and you will soon be able to withstand my discipline. Next time, I know we can reach 30 minutes together as a team. You are amazing and your dedication astounds me!
Forget me not,
Your Tready
I could have written this, but I don't even own a tready of my own and haven't run in months. You're a step ahead of me and I don't have a wee youngin' as an excuse anymore. You go girl!
Thunder thighs, Sr.
P.S. Your dear sis-in-law (she said Sis. Barnes) called me the other day to sub for her Primary class and for a second I thought it was you. Boo!
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