Oops?

I just ran nearly 7 miles. I meant to only go 6.2--unfortunately I live in the middle of nowhere and so mapmyrun.com sometimes lies to me. I looked it up before I left and found a street that was exactly 3.1 miles away from my house... turns out that street doesn't exist anymore.

But hey, I did a 10K and then some!

Just wanted to add...

I find it terribly ironic that after I posted an entry about only competing with myself while running I just found myself competing with a freakishly fast basset hound.

I'm dog sitting for the weekend. Turns out my screen door latch is not as secure as I tend to think it is, thus I found myself sprinting down the block (in my work clothes and flip flops) screaming, "Stop, you whore!" at the dog like a crazy person. Seriously, what kind of basset hound runs that quickly?

I bet my neighbors think I'm super cool.

Gym class kills your soul.

I have very distinct memories from middle school gym class, some of which are more traumatic than others. One in particular involves something I am certain was created by the devil specifically to torture adolescent girls. I can't recall the name, but it involves all of the girls running in a line and taking turns sprinting to get to the front of the line. As in, when a girl is at the back of the line, the gym teacher blows a whistle and she sprints to the front, then the next girl at the back goes, etc, etc. Why this seemed like a good idea to anyone is beyond me.

At the tender age of 14, wearing loose fitting purple shorts from Wal-Mart that did little to hide the flapping flesh on my thighs, I found myself trudging along on a track made of crushed red rock, surrounded by girls from the volleyball team or the basketball team or the "hey look at me I'm perfect" team, and approaching the back of the line far too quickly. Before I knew it, my turn had arrived. And try as I might, I couldn't get to the front of the damn line.

You would think that the other girls would see me struggling and slow down a little so as to avoid seeing their classmate die of cardiac arrest. Of course, in middle school things like human decency don't really seem to be a concern to most people. So there I was, putting forth as much effort as humanly possible, all the while hearing the screams of the gym teacher--"Come on Leslie! Get to the front! Hurry up!" They haunt my dreams, really.

I never made it to the front of the line. Eventually the teacher gave up and just called for the next person to go and I was left to run around the track in solitude and failure.

For some reason I have more distinct memories of middle school gym class than of high school gym class. I blame this on the fact that by the time I reached high school I had figured out that hanging with all the other gym class misfits was the way to go. Cause if we were too cool it didn't matter if we came close to death.

It might seem strange that my newfound sport of choice has become running. To be honest, it even confuses me. After eighth grade I wouldn't have blamed myself if I chose to never even walk at a quick pace again. But I've discovered that I like how it challenges me. I only have myself to compete with, and I can push myself as much as I choose. So long as I'm not surrounded by adolescent girls when I go for a run, I think all will be well for my future endeavors.

Regardless, I wish I could remember the name of that stupid activity. I would totally petition someone important to have it banned from school forever.

This is why I'm still single

(at a work function)

Me: Do you have a list of blah blah blah?

Good-looking man: Oh, I thought you were going to ask for my phone number...

Me: Haha, no. Do you have a list?

Good-looking man: Um, yeah.

(over an hour later)
Me, to myself: Holy crap, was that flirting?!?!?!

Yeah. I'm quick.

How the heck am I supposed to tell if men are flirting with me or just being weird? And furthermore, why do I always think of witty things to say an hour later?

Yumm-O!

I bought strawberry mint lip gloss and it rocks. If it were possible to make out with myself I totally would right now.

In other random news, it is ridiculously windy to the point of it nearly making me want to crawl in bed and not do anything for the rest of the evening. Instead I shall proceed to do laundry, make tons of soup out of vegetables my mother gave me out of her garden and freeze it, and run four miles.

This Sunday is the Nike Human Race wherein people all over the world run a 10K... I plan to run a 10K on my birthday at the end of September, but thought I'd give it a first go this Sunday to see if I can do it! (I'm sure I can.) Thus far my longest distance is a whopping 5.5 miles last week. I see it as quite an accomplishment after having run a 20-minute mile in middle school gym class. At least I finished, right?

Who I Am

Ah, procrastination is fun. So now that I’m done doing that, I shall begin my plight to take over the world via internet domination.

And by that I mean that all the cool kids have blogs, so I felt I should make one too. Basically I feel as though I need some type of outlet to ramble without annoying people. Not to mention, I’m pretty sure my English major skills are rapidly deteriorating due to the fact that I never write anything other than work-related items.

So there you have it. Blog time. (P.S. I’m trying to convince a fellow English major buddy to become a contributor to my blog. Because what kind of blog would I be if I didn’t have a contributor? That just makes me sound cool).

First off, an introduction. I am Leslie, slayer of masculinity. Basically the name has nothing to do with anything other than being funny. It came about because I asked my older sister what to name my blog. She suggested that and BAM! Why not name my blog the first thing anyone mentioned? Works for me.

I enjoy the following things: Books, smoothies, puppies, vodka, cheesy reality television, sarcasm, and the word awesome. At this point my life includes a newfound love of fitness, healthy eating, running and happiness. I tend to have wacky adventures and basically consider myself to be the American and real life version of Bridget Jones (read: perpetually single) and thus a blog is born.

Two years ago I graduated college and currently I am living and working in a profession that is related to my major, which I consider an accomplishment in itself. In those two years I have also proceeded to lose about 60 pounds through adopting a healthier lifestyle. I’m shooting for 40 more cause I want to be one of those people who brags about losing 100 pounds—triple digits seem fun. Also, I fear that I am starting to annoy family and friends. You know those people who go on a diet (I’m not on a diet, I hate diets and have tried all of them, but more on that later) and then never talk about anything else? I don’t want to be that girl. Lucky for me there is this thing called the internet…

In addition, I am single. Very much so. I’m pretty sure I’m going to be single until I’m about 90 and I am mostly okay with that. Though I’ve recently been considering joining an online dating website, but that’s mostly just insanity talking. I never wanted to be with someone just to avoid being alone, and so far that has led to me being alone. In recent days I have been asked repeatedly why I don't have a man as if I'm approaching
spinster status at the age of 23. That's fun. Read on, dear blog readers! (And by that I mean the three people I’ve told about my blog so far. You all rock!)

Hello!

I shall now proceed to blog about the following:

1. My wacky, yet awesome, life.
2. My insane (and slightly painful) newly discovered hobby of running.
3. The ways in which my life resembles Cathy... you know, from the comics page? Oh yeah. That's basically me.

Except not right now, cause I enjoy procrastinating.