Running with Pixie Dust

... but D-Money insisted I blog so that he could read it.  Sweet.  But bordering on abusive.

And in case you're wondering, why yes, I am addicted to the vertical strip of pictures that I vainly take of myself on The Mugshot Machine.  I guess it isn't that vain though... I mean, look at what I'm showing you.  If you look closely, you can see the lovely little pooch of fat that gathers next to my armpit when I decide to go off plan for several months and eat a lot of this.

The same roommates that introduced me to Cats 101 (see latest Triple Tangent Tuesday for that gem) referred to that little fat deposit as the "baby vagina."  Call it what you will... it ain't pretty.

Today's workout... um... it was P90X.  What else can you say?  I did a whole lot of pushups and pull-ups.  I'd have to check my worksheet for exact numbers (and it is down two flights of stairs, so that obviously isn't happening) but I'm going to say I did about 8000.  Or at least that's what it felt like.  You know what doesn't feel good?  A whole bunch of pull-ups when you haven't done a single pull-up in months.  Yummy.  And before you start thinking I'm really hardcore, please know that I had a chair in front of me with one leg up on it at all times.  I think my legs are more sore than my back.

The real highlight of this workout was Ab Ripper X.  That workout is Satanic.  Anyone who thinks Lady Gaga is the Anti-Christ is incorrect.  Ab Ripper X is the Anti-Christ.

My girl Gaga is just a little special, that's all.

I think I probably only did about half of Ab Ripper X.  I had to keep taking breaks because I thought I was going to throw up.  That's a delightful feeling, isn't it?  You're going along, having a good workout, and then suddenly... that Cytomax/energy gel/drug of choice is biting you right in the ass.  All was well and I got to keep my breakfast, but I have to admit that I was worn out all day after this workout.  Meh.  Maybe I needed some more cardio to get the blood pumping?  Perhaps on top of my run tomorrow, I'll have a date with my bestie Chalene.  She'll tell me, "Guess what?  You're not tired!"  And I'll cry because I will be tired, and sweaty, and nasty... and she will still be able to kick me in the face with perfect bangs.

This is literally the limit of my mental capacity right now.  I swear I will have more coherent things to say tomorrow after serious amounts of sleep.  For right now, I will just say...

While I was Skyping with David today (before he became super abusive and really nicely and supportively encouraged me to post tonight... the nerve of him) he informed me that I am now up to EIGHT READERS!  I'm not kidding, I did a happy dance with a huge grin on my face and just about peed my pants.  I know eight isn't a huge number (I'm no Skinny Runner or Hungry Runner Girl), but it's a big deal to me.  Selfishly, I'm excited and flattered that anyone thinks my whining is worthy of attention.  Slightly less selfishly, I know that when I was progressing through my weight loss journey and getting into fitness, it helped me a lot to read about other people and their struggles and triumphs... and if I can help anybody else out there, even if it's just my showing that even a Weight Watchers Lifetime member and Leader makes mistakes, it will make every late night blog post absolutely worth it. So THANK YOU LOVELY READERS!

And now I will pass out.  It will look a lot like that last sleepy picture, but with more drool.  You're welcome.