Sweating Like a Monkey

I was pretty excited when I got out of bed this morning and didn’t feel sore (I wasn’t excited about the pesky cough and sore throat that I can’t seem to kick, but I’ll take what I can get). I ran my new and improved 4 mile route on Saturday and finished strong, thinking how awesome I am. On Sunday, I was sore as shit. Yesterday, I ran 4 miles again, and today I woke up fine. Progress!

Over-achieving Brig thought spin class would be a great way to keep the momentum going sans running - I wish I could go back in time and punch her in the face. Spinning is HARD (I guess there was a reason I stopped going). After a leisurely three-day weekend of eating and drinking, the last thing I want to do is get screamed at for indulging myself; it’s not exactly a smooth transition back to the grind.

I mentioned it on the phone w/ B afterwards.

Me: Class was so hard today! I was sweating like a monkey.

B: (noticeable pause over the phone) Is that a lot?

Me: I think I was trying to say Ben Stiller’s line at the end of Dodgeball about sweating like grease monkeys. I forgot to say “grease” but still wanted to convey how much I was sweating. I didn’t think you’d notice...

B: Do monkeys sweat a lot?

Me: How should I know? Haven’t you seen Dodgeball?

B: So you were sweating like a monkey. An animal that may or may not sweat all that much.

At this point, I was laughing so hard I had to get off the phone because I couldn’t keep it down much longer and I knew the irritated looks would be coming.

I can only wait and see how sore I’ll be tomorrow. Maybe it won’t be that much. Yeah, right. And maybe I’ll run into a zoologist on the commute home and get my answer about the sweat habits of monkeys.

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