I had the best of intentions yesterday. I drove into Philadelphia yesterday morning for an all-day meeting at my company's headquarters. I packed a bag with running gear to go for what I'm sure would have been a beautiful run either along the Schuylkill River or Kelly Drive, or maybe a less scenic but no less fun excursion over to my old apartment building at 42nd & Pine, just to see if the place is still standing. It was, after all, when I lived in this apartment that I made my first attempt to incorporate running into my workout regimen (not counting basketball practices, when I didn't really have a choice).
My plan made perfect sense, too. Rather than fight rush hour traffic out of the city at 5:30, I'd run for an hour or an hour and a half, and cruise easily home.
But after a really long, productive day of meetings, I was really tired. And many of my colleagues live even farther from the home office than I do, and get in even less frequently than the 2-3 times a year I make the trip in. So, I invited myself out to dinner at the Continental instead of running.
I'd love to say I regretted it, but I'd be lying.
Cheesesteak Eggrolls. Go to the Continental Mid-town at 18th and Chestnut and order them. (Well, not right now since they're only on the dinner menu.) Trust me on this one.
(Sorry to put out two of these in a row, but what I'm eating is usually more interesting than where I'm running...if I'm running.)