Three Miles Later . . .

So I took my walking machine out for a walk.  I call my body My Walking Machine.  When it’s going well I say “You’re a GOOD little walking machine” and when it’s not going so well I say “Come ON, walking machine, you can do this!”  I use this very anal app called and this snotty bitch tells you every five minutes how far you’ve walked (or run, or cycled, or hiked), and what your pace is.  I HATE how JUDGMENTAL she is!!  So I am always trying to get my walking machine to pick up the pace.  Today my walking machine did three miles at about 16.5 minutes per mile.  Don’t hate.  I did it.  What I really wanted to do was go back to bed for more lazy Sunday napping.  Just one small triumph for one very low-functioning frontal-lobed walking machine.  Peaches.

7 thoughts on “Three Miles Later . . .

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