On Monday, Tara and I ran 13m after work. This was a bad idea. Not the run; just the timing. Our run took us into Central Park after dark - and half the street lights were out post-Hurricane Irene.
During the run, Tara kept commenting on how badly her running capris smelled. I didn't notice any scent at all, which I kept telling her. I'll admit: even as I was not smelling anything, in my head I was thinking, "Um, gross! Like, seriously. You say you washed your capris, but if you washed them, they wouldn't smell as badly as you say they do!"
And then... last night. I had grabbed a clean shirt and clean skirt out of my laundry pile, but the second the "clean" shirt got sweaty, it was like the moisture reactivated YEARS of stink. My god. I've never smelled anything like me in that shirt last night. Foul. Truly foul.
This is the shirt in question:
Two different people told me they liked my skirt while I was running (one a stranger, the other my friend Jenny whom we ran into on the path - get it? ran into her?).
Also? Not going to lie. I would eat this. You might even say I will eat this:
I know it's disgusting. But it's mac and cheese and a burger. Two delicious things made into one potentially more delicious thing. You can't go wrong. (I would forego the fries.) Anyone up for some Denny's this weekend? My treat. Serious offer.*
*Denny's must be accessible from NYC via public transportation or you must provide a ride for me.