I am not doing the marathon next Saturday. I have also gained 12 pounds since November. I am not happy about either of these things, and for both I am fully to blame. I have allowed myself to be thrown from the horse, metaphorically speaking, and I have allowed myself to inadequately exercise and overadequately eat, literally speaking. I would ask you to toss me a life preserver, but I would probably just mistake it for a giant donut and start noshing away.
Ugh. Double ugh. Double ugh with cheese and a side of curly fries.
What's worse, I have an ungodly number of things to do before June 3rd and have to spend six hours tomorrow doing media training as part of my fellowship. This will apparently involve being videotaped doing a mock interview which will then be critiqued by public relations experts. I fully expect that for me the Elephant In The Room during their expert comments will be whether it is acceptable to suggest cosmetic surgery.
Enough wallowing. I am going out to run. Various Jeremy-doubters-and-detractors can bask in gleeful schadenfreese.