Fan Karma

Well....yesterday was literally a day of rest. After working from 8:30-1 I got home, crawled into bed, and took what I thought would be an hour nap. Fast forward three and half hours, and cue me waking up to realize I need to shower immediately and drive up north for Charles' mom's birthday. Holy cow! Apparently, when I nap; I nap hard.


Today's 3 mile run took a back seat to a lesson in karma.

The YMCA has floor fans, and since running tends to make me sweaty, I like to pick the treadmill that has the fan facing it. So I hopped on my treadmill and began to run. 


Enter a younger male, who was making it painfully obvious that he was a runner. Not only was he wearing obnoxiously short shorts, but he was wearing a teeny-tiny tank top. His entire outfit seemed to say "Look at me! I have 0.1% body fat and chicken legs. Watching me run will be like watching a skeleton run if the skeleton was a model for Dick's Sporting Goods and proactiv (a BEFORE model)." 




Harsh? Don't care. Why? Here's why.

This douche-bag o' bones apparently feels that HE needs the fan more than I need the fan. Excuse me? Who is going to need the fan more? The person with more insulation, that's who. But no, he takes the fan, and points it at him. So I'm stuck watching Christian Bale circa The Machinist run in MY FAN WIND.


But only for about 30 seconds. That's how long it took for karma to kick in and give skeletor a tweaked leg muscle.

Oh, so sad.


The other glorifying moment at the gym today was that I outlasted everyone who got on a machine while I was there. 3.2 miles and counting! :)


Until Tomorrow,

J