My running shoes are sad

Ok, they're actually probably not sad. I know you're probably thinking, "Yeah Molly, they're not sad because they're not alive." Nope. They're not sad because they're enjoying the time off. Duh.

It's been three and a half weeks since I've slipped on the silver and orange 8 1/2 Nike Air Max tennis shoes. (Nothing like a little product placement.) You see, I sprained my ankle. Really bad. It resembled what I imagine a dead person's foot might look like. You can call it Dead Foot for short.

Anyway, it truly is amazing what exercise can do for your life. Don't get me wrong, some days I want nothing more than to veg out on my cozy futon - shutup, I like my futon - and watch Full House reruns. (Last night I watched the episode in which DJ was having a "mega-crisis" because some butt munch kid was spreading rumors that she was the worst kisser in school. She threatened him with a mustard bottle. Problem solved.)

But when I actually get the motivation to run, I feel so much better. Both mentally and physically. Know how I know? Because I'm feeling the transverse effect of it. I haven't run for almost a month, and I feel about as attractive as Britney Spears circa NOW.

Plus, I couldn't wear high heels that whole time, and sometimes, you just need a little heel action to feel good about yourself. Tragic, I know. My life is so hard. But I've worn heels the last two days - with minimal struggle - so I've decided the running will begin again on Monday. Nevermind the fact that I'll pretty much be starting over from an endurance factor, but if Kirstie Alley can do it twenty times over, so can I!