two things: one to do with running, the other with my fastly-deteriorating fashion sense

I've started running again. I'm not sure if I ever "officially" stopped, but I only ran twice in August, totalling about nine miles, so I kind of felt like when I restarted in September that I was, well, restarting.

This is probably not even blog-worthy. It would probably be better served disappearing into the chasm that is facebook, but I need blog topics, so here it is.

I once had a friend (coughcoughangelacough) who said that she didn't run outside because she was afraid that just maybe, she ran "funny," and people would see her. Being an awesome friend, I insisted that surely she didn't.

I lied.

I have never even seen her run. I have just recently decided that she does run funny. Wanna know why? (as if spell check didn't underline 'wanna')

Everyone runs funny. Quite seriously, everyone. I prefer to run outside, because the treadmill sucks my will to live, and a mile or two in I turn into a sighing, eye-rolling teenager, out of sheer boredom. Over the years I have bumped into many, many different kinds of people outside on the running path - and you know what? They all run funny. Everyone. Human beings are not that innately graceful. Oh sure, we have ballerinas and . . . I don't know, other people who practice to become graceful. But runners? Not graceful. There are many different kinds of runners, from seasoned runners to people who just jog along slower than I can walk. And.... they all look funny.

There have been times I've almost convinced myself I look awesome. Then I see my shadow. It looks like Quasimodo. I'm at peace with that. Mostly, because no matter how funny I look - so does everyone else.

That's really all. See? And you say you can't think of anything to write about.

*****

Secondly: Remember how I used to make fun of people who wear yoga pants and leave the house? Or leggings? You can read about it here and here and here.

Totally kidding. I didn't link any of that. I'm way too lazy to find the past posts.

Let's just say that I may have compared yoga-pants wearing women to giant toddlers. Or suggested that they just didn't fit into their jeans anymore.

Anyway, fast forward to what I am wearing today.

They're not even yoga pants, people, they are sweats. I bought them at Garage Clothing last weekend, the same store that had my daughter gasping in awe at how cool the store was, and how she was going to do all her shopping there when she was a teenager.

They have cuffed ankles. Not even kidding. They are a little too short, as is every other pair of pants I have ever tried on that are not a "long" jean.

I not only look like a giant toddler, I am one shirt-stain away from having my picture posted on People of Walmart.

I kind of don't care. I bought them "for the house."

I have a confession.

I wore them other places.

Places where I could be seen.

Here's a picture:


There really isn't.
Nor will there ever be.

Happy Friday.