in general, i do not enjoy exercising. not even a tiny bit. i'd much rather drink water and watch a fitness dvd while lounging on the couch then actually copy the obnoxious, incredibly too perky instructor with abs of steel and a butt on which you could serve tea.
however, in making bigger attempts to eat right and stay fit (and this whole "recovery" thing in general), i am trying to be more physically active.
i came home today and engaged in my usual after work routine (pjs, glass of water, facebook). then, deciding that it was good weather to be outside, i changed clothes again (okay, lie. i put a pullover and tennis shoes on), grabbed cooper's leash, my older-than-dirt ipod mini (because my newest one disappeared at work over a year ago) and headed outside.
i must stop here. cooper is "mine" by marriage. he is my step-dog. for the most part, though i give my husband a hard time, cooper is a fairly good dog (mainly because all he generally does is eat and sleep. oh--and fart. a lot).
so, being good doggy mom i am, i decided to bring cooper along, right? bad idea.
picture it: me, happily striding along to the beatles. cooper, walking, sniffing and attempting to mark everything. we make it a good 20 minutes. then, disaster strikes.
enter cute little yorkie. see cooper sniff. watch mommy tug on leash. see cooper defy mommy and continue to sniff, despite being drug away. go cooper. go yorkie. see cooper duck his head. oh no! the collar came off. run yorkie, run. run cooper, run. oh, crap.
mommy does not like to run.
meanwhile, back at home, my cats are lounging on the bed.