Bree and I decided to go exercising last night after work. Because we were both in terrible moods and thought everyone sucked and bring on the endorphins! Bree proposed a very ambitious 5 mile Bike Share cruise to Nationals Park, followed by a 3.2 run (and by run, I mean walk/run/try not to die) home, to which I responded, “that sounds terrible! Let’s do it!” She even wore her running purse (also know as a fanny pack) so we looked super serious (or like huge dorks).
So anyways, we biked and then ran, and then I thought I was having a seizure on a stupid bridge between the Navy Yard and Capitol South because the sun was making everything flashy through the stupid bridge fence and then we stopped for water and kept running. Because we ran forever.
We walked around the base of the Capitol and then Bree, the overachiever that she is, decided she was going to run up the hill. For those of you who haven’t spent months of your life biking or walking up and down that thing, it’s huge. And steep. And never stops. I told her to carry on without me.
“But come on!” Bree said, it’ll make your body look good.”
“But my butt already looks FABULOUS,” I yelled after her, shocking the poor interns and tourists walking next to me.
“Yeah, I said body, not butt,” she told me when we both got to the top. Great.
We high fived at the end of the exercise excursion. “It’s like we’re almost tri-athletics,” I told her.
“Take a shower,” she responded. “That’ll count as our swim.”