Tumbling out of bed after 4 snoozes and reluctantly schlepping to yoga this morning made me five minutes late to class. Shunned at the locked studio door in my hot yoga shorts (To clarify, it’s the yoga that’s hot, not the shorts. Trust me.), I found myself all dressed up with nowhere to flow. I decided to head to the Saturday morning coffee shop where all the fitness geeks hang to re-hash the glories of weekend long runs and rides, and to hammer out the finer points of training and nutrition plans. At least I looked the part.
Taking advantage of the free wi-fi, I finally got to update a massive app that’s going to help integrate strength training into my schedule, rev up my racing, and shred my bod beyond recognition (just you wait and see…). But after three skims through the ol’ Facebook feed, a quick flutter through the world news, then style, then celebrity Flipboards, and a solid update phone call from abroad, the download was still only 3/4 done. What is this, the nineties? If my dodgy internet connection is glacially extracting content from the web shouldn’t I at least get the nostalgic throwback of the dubstep soundtrack?
In sum, I just spent the last hour downloading a fitness app instead of actually being fit.
Can someone please pass the croissants?