Someone once insinuated that I'm addicted to running. I just googled "insinuate" to check the spelling. Well, I ran twice this week, and it was only because I was invited to. Didn't really feel like it, and I wanted to see if my hip flexor twinge would go away with rest. It did not.
13 miles this week. Boom!
No rambling about motivation, boredom, or metaphors for how my boring life is similar to my boring running? Surely, this can't be all.