I've apparently become a 60-year-old woman since getting back from the honeymoon since I now wear a pedometer every day. And actually attempt to put 10,000 steps on the stupid thing as often as I can.
I succeeded today after making one last lap around the coffee table, much to Indie Rocker's amusement. So that, combined with an actual workout at the hands of Benny, makes me pretty happy. And very deserving of the glass of sparkling wine I'm enjoying right now.
I was not one of those brides who felt the need to hit the gym every spare second before the wedding. Perhaps it was the total lack of spare seconds, or the two weeks of seeing myself in summer clothing, but I've definitely become very interested in whipping myself back into shape. Don't get me wrong--I certainly hope that I never look back at the wedding photos and think, "Wow, what a whale!" Because I wasn't, and the photos make both of us look great. If I do say so myself!
More than anything, I wasn't enjoying the fact that I couldn't just go out and do whatever I wanted to. I am really happy that when Marshall called and asked if I could run 6-7 miles with her last weekend, I could say yes and mean it. And that gives me more incentive to go out and kick some more ass, just so that hiking this summer doesn't kill me. Or surfing. Or cycling. Whew--see what I mean?
Quote of the Day: "Golf is a good walk spoiled." Mark Twain.