This morning was one one of those morning with Tim the Trainer where he stopped me mid-workout and asked if I was going to throw up. Anytime Tim makes me run, I see my life flash before my eyes. It's horrible and painful and I spend half the time with my elbows on my knees trying to catch my breath.
Anyway, after Tim left I got showered and changed and walked out my front door to find my upstairs neighbor adding flare to his bicycles for "The Playa." Yeah, he's on his way to Burning Man. I had to sort of walk over his little art project and as I did so, I wished him well on his hippie adventure.
"Hey, did you lose your cat this morning?" He asked me.
"Well, I saw you running down the sidewalk all crazy. I thought maybe you were chasing your cat."
"Nope. I don't have a cat. That was me working out."
"Oh. It was so weird. I couldn't figure it out. There was that guy standing there and..."
I sighed. "That's my trainer."
"Oh, you're working out! I thought you were running after an animal."
"Nope. That's what I look like when I try and exercise..."
This is why I hate breaking a sweat in public. People think it's like the end of the world or something is horribly wrong. I'm amazed no one called the cops, my running down an urban sidewalk is such an alarming sight. It's really quite encouraging...