Led Astray. Again.

On Thursday evening, Roommate and I went to visit our personal trainer/sadist again. Did I mention that her name is Sandi? With an i? Possibly a little heart over it?

Yeah.

Anyway, Sandi, PT/S, was particularly gleeful that Roommate and I were in no small amount of pain even before her regularly scheduled torture session. Roommate told her happily that we'd worked out three times that week already. [I have no idea why Roommate is so happy about this. She may actually be broken.]

My lack of blogging becomes understandable, doesn't it? I was far too busy moaning and kvetching to type. Plus, it really, really hurt.

And then--then!!!--Roommate had to go and blab about my promise to Mr. Man. Mr. Man is my ridiculously dreamy-hot Swedish friend. My insanely fit, ridiculously hot, absurdly intelligent, incredibly focused Swedish friend. I promised...

Sigh. I can't believe I did this.

I promised to jog a mile.

I know!!!!! No, I haven't a clue what I was thinking. Okay, maybe I was distracted by the hotness. But come on! A mile. ME!!! Was he deranged to insist upon it? Was I drunk when I caved?

And Sandi, PT/S, was delighted. Delighted. No, more delighted than that. More than that, even. Okay, not that much. But close. And then she stopped and said, "Why did you agree to run when he asked you and not when I did?"

C'mon, Sandi. Really? Think about it. Hotness. I told her, "Because I have no hope of ever sleeping with you."

Not that I'll ever sleep with Mr. Man. But a woman can dream, can't she? Sleeping with Mr. Man is as unrealistic as my pathetic attempt to jog a mile on Sunday. No, I did not succeed. I traveled a mile, in a combination of walking and jogging, but sadly, I did not fulfill my promise. And everything that hurt before really, really, REALLY hurts now.

NB: When a military guy tries to tell you that pain is just weakness leaving the body, he's full of crap. In case you needed to know this.

Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.

Ow. Even sighing hurts now. Gah!

I blame the hotness.