Y’ALL.
This happens all.of.the.time.
Blog
Feelings.
I’ve been writing on and off for the last 6 years. Before I started sharing my thoughts on this blog, my words filled up the pages of dozens of journals and notebooks.
Don’t get too comfortable.
I first heard this said to me by my mom.
It was in reference to my relationship with my boyfriend at the time. She felt the need to tell me this because, in her words, I was getting a little too comfortable around him.
When is it my turn?
You know the feeling.
You are praying, believing and wanting more for yourself. You know you can be doing so much more, if you were just given the opportunity.
Yet time after time, it’s not you, but someone else.
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I need pepper spray.
As I have told anyone who will listen for the past month and a half, I’m a runner now.
For those of you that know me, you probably had the same reaction my dad did when I first told him:
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Zumba
As I mentioned in my previous post, I have been working on losing some weight and getting into shape. In order to accomplish this, I have been running consistently for the last 2 weeks and shaved my mile time down from 13 mins (& dying) to 10 mins (& dying less while also not stopping)!
Holla at’cha girl!
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I really wanna lose 3 pounds.
I ran a 13 minute mile this morning.
Now that 13 minutes includes me stopping once to tie my shoelaces and again another time to ensure that I wouldn’t keel over and die.
For those of you who run 5 miles every morning before 8am, I ask that you keep those judgmental thoughts to yourselves.
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Just do it.
No, this is not in reference to the Nike tagline. It also has nothing to do with Shia LaBeouf’s motivational speech.
This short and that-came-out-of-nowhere post is meant for me. It’s meant to give me that push I needed to start this back up again. That accountability that I will all but lock myself in to by hitting “publish.”
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Rome If You Want To. Rome Around The World.
Let’s just completely overlook the fact that I haven’t posted since November. Like, we’re not even going to mention it. Deal?
What’s the first thing I should note about this final place? The history? The food? The throngs of people?
No. The first thing to note is the weather. Alabama summers have nothing on this place in August.
Final stop: Rome, Italy.
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Paris. First-Class International.
22,000 steps in one day. I walked 22,000 steps in one day. And I would have lost weight, too, had it not been for that meddling food.
Second stop: Paris, France.
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S i m p l y B r e A s h l e e 