Day 3 - Night Jogger!

I Really Wanted the Bacon Sandwich

This stupid program robbed me of a bacon sandwich and a chocolate croissant.  As any good couch dweller can tell you, there is no better gustatory delight than a bacon sandwich.  I didn't eat it because I didn't want to "run it off".  How quickly that phrase has become the clarion call of martyrdom!  Like an addict denied my fix, I thought about a BLT all afternoon.  The fantasy BLT with: garden ripe tomatoes still warm from the sun, crisp romaine barely patted dry, 9 seed bread toasted with a generous layer of mayo and stone ground mustard, but most of all not 1 but two layers of bacon cooked to that perfect balance between crisp and rubbery.

Wedgies, Really?


It's our first evening jog and for the moment it is not pouring buckets of icy rain.  It is also the first run where I am not just concentrating on dragging air into my lungs.  Instead I have a wedgie attack.  It's like all the worst parts of middle school gym and I am doing it to myself.  How does one discreetly and unobtrusively remedy a wedgie on a public street?  Tell me that exercisers!  If I wanted a wedgie I'd buy thongs.  Wait! Is that why skinny girls buy them?  It's a conspiracy I tell ya!