I know we've been seeing each other for a whole two weeks now, but I have to tell you, you're coming on kind of strong. I mean, really. You just expect me to drop everything six nights a week to be with you. What about my other loves? Like reality TV? And ice cream? And my husband? Am I just supposed to end things with them? Are we exclusive? Because I didn't get that memo.
And can we just talk for a second about how you are fatiguing me for all of my runs? It's not easy to squeeze in 30 miles a week when you keep coming at me with all of that "this is the X" crap. And don't even get me started on Ab Ripper.
OK, maybe I am overreacting. Maybe you are going to make me a stronger runner. Maybe I'll get abs of steel and biceps to kill for. I mean, isn't that what you promise? Don't worry, I'm not leaving you. At least not for the next 10 weeks, but I swear if you don't deliver, I'm going to write nasty stuff about you on the Internet for all of the free world to read. Consider yourself warned.