Bruises and Baby Guns.

My day started out fine.  No drama. Chipotle for lunch with Restaurant Boy.

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I mean really.  How can you go wrong with Restaurant Boy?

You might not have known this because I've never told you, but I have never really enjoyed Chipotle in the past.  The reason is because it has always hurt my guts.  I never understood the whole thing, since I know that Chipotle uses all natural ingredients.  It just didn't make sense.  I cut meat out of the bowl, and it still hurt my guts.  About 2 weeks ago, I gave it another whirl.

Because I am a constant source of self-torture.

This time, I omitted the rice.

Pinto beans, peppers & onions, corn and medium green salsa, guacamole, and lots of lettuce.  BINGO!  WE HAVE A WINNER!   A non-gut-aching vegetarian fajita bowl for your girl.  No intestinal revolt.  So, I've basically been eating Chipotle now at every other meal.

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So when a day starts out with Restaurant Boy and Chipotle, it can only get better, right?!

Right?

Wrong.

For the entire day, I was dreading my run.  Walked to the copier, dreading my run.  Walked to refill my water bottle, dreading my run.  Foam rolled my sore hamstrings, dreading my run.

Tonight, I didn't want to run.  at.all.

I was tired and so sore from kickboxing class, and the only thing that I really wanted to do was go home, curl up on the futon with some steamed veggies, and catch up on Tough Love and Teen Mom.

I really am not lying when I tell you that I'm a reality TV addict.  My problem doesn't end with just botox-injected one-hit wonders.

So, what I'm trying to say is that I wanted to go home.  Running was the last thing I wanted to do.

I attend the most insane kickboxing class now on Mondays and Wednesdays.  On Monday, we low crawled.  As in 'combat training low crawl'.  As in, dragging ones lifeless legs behind oneself using only ones elbows.  This causes bodily injury.

ouch

See, the problem with this insane class is that there is no room to be lazy.  If you're not working out on the days when you're not kickboxing, you're getting beat the hail up in class on Monday and Wednesday.  You will be abused, chewed up, and spit out.  The fact that I refuse to be defeated is also part of the problem as well, I would imagine.

I have to get my runs in so that I can finish the Disney Princess 1/2 in March.

I have to do my cross and weight training so that I don't get injured again like I did in 2009.

These are not things that I can be lazy about.  I hated being hurt, and the reason I was hurt is because I was slacking.  So, when I feel like slacking, I have to think twice about it now, and just look forward to my next rest day.  As I slogged along after work, and procrastinated, I just kept thinking about the fact that tomorrow was my rest day.

If by rest, you mean working for 8 hours, grocery shopping, and generally running errands like a crazy lady, then yes...definitely a rest day.

So.  I needed to be motivated, and I did what any reasonable person would do.  I went in the bathroom, changed into my Skirtsports running skirt and tank (which strangely resembles something that I would've worn to the club back in the day), and I proceeded to examine my growing baby muscles in the mirror.

Everyone does this, right?

Right?

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And then I focused...er something.  Who knows what this face is.

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Ha!  Do you see that silly little gun making an appearance?  I haven't seen that thing in years.

I think it's even grown since I last LOVED MYSELF.

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No, I'm not sniffing my armpit here.

After a full on photo shoot, I stopped procrastinating and got my a$$ to the gym.  Several minutes and 4 miles later, it was over, and I was glad that I sucked it up and went.

And the guns are growing baby!  Woo!

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