The time has come (apparently) for the tourists to flock from far and wide to my beloved city. Traffic. Like, whoa.
Fanny packs. Whoa (read: woe. Fashion faux pas.)
Beauty? WHOA.
With the blossoming comes the running. After a near fatal.... ok, slight scare on the dreadmill last week, I took a few days off. That always scares me, but in the end my health is more important than my sanity. Wait, no? Meh, all's well that ends well?
This week I have been rocking it. The weather has been dreary,except Tuesday when I had a smokin' hot date (swoon) to see the Tidal Basin. So, I've been boppin' on the tready-- mile intervals up to 8 miles (1 at 8:30 pace, the next at 7:30 pace...repeat for a ridiculous amount of time.) Nothing gets me going more than Beiber followed by some Avril. It helps take my mind off the fact that I do indeed sweat. No glistening here. Super hot, I know.
Gross.
My rambling leads to this: The Cherry Blossom 10 miler is Sunday. And I'm so excited.
Happy Dance.
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