I got back SUPER late from Atl yesterday.
We got majorly lost looking for the art show, and slightly lost again trying to find our way back to the interstate.
So my run scheduled for the morning simply didn't happen.
Instead, I drove my lazy butt to the gym and got on the (cue horror music) treadmill.
Twice in one week?
Weird, I know.
I'm being overly dramatic.
It really wasn't all that bad.
I busted out the 6 miles coach had scheduled.
Now I'm back home, showered, lounging around in a bikini for no apparent reason, and about to go lounge on the screen porch and read Harry Potter.