A Shoe Shirt and Bare Feet
Oh the irony of the shoe shirt. My barefoot run to the gym yesterday was less than stellar. Every once in a while I have one of those runs where nothing seems to go right. I can't find my rhythm, I step on every sharp and jabby thing all in the wrong spots, I lose my mojo. I was totally distracted yesterday. It happens. That run was the exact opposite of my previous run. Now, THAT was a stellar run. The kind that almost had me convinced that I had achieved running evolution. Well, apparently not. Yesterday's little jaunt to the gym was littered with swear words and bruises. Maybe it was the Puma shirt. My feet were punishing me for wearing a shoe shirt. I should have known better. Speaking of punishment. My workovers have been going really well. Last night's menu was totally doable without much suffering at all and this morning's workover was more of the same. Most of the time, though, I suffer, I sweat, I swear and I grunt. Yeah. That's a bit embarrassing. Th