Lisa and I were discussing a college classmate who was seeking some inspiration/accountability on Facebook to get herself to the pool. This particular friend exercises a lot—I mean a lot—and when I mentioned her
obsession extreme exercising habits, Lisa said, “Maybe she’s just a triathlete,” and then asked if she’s single.
“Yes to both questions. What are you implying?” I asked. (Except, now that I think about it, she’s totally married.)
“Sometimes I think the only thing that reins you in is my disapproving look.”
“If I weren’t here, you’d be some crazy running, biking, swimming, skiing, shooting, cross-training fool. You’d be a gun-toting bad-ass diabetic motherfucker.”
Well, I probably can’t argue with that.