That, boys and girls, is the butt of one Lady Gaga. Love her or hate her, you cannot deny, the woman has a smoking backside. Her butt makes J-Lo’s butt feel bad about itself. Ladies in Brazil weep and moan over the fact that they, Masters of the Buttiverse, will never reach the cheeky heights of The Lady of Ga.
Why do I bring this up? Inspiration, my friends! This is burned into the back of my eyelids so that every time I am tempted to slow down or stop, I am reminded of my end goal: Gaga heinie.
When I’m running up hill after hill after hill and I need to dig deep to find the strength to get to the top, what do I think about? Gaga heinie.
I am 100% convinced that if I keep this up, I am going to somehow magically transform my 36 year old patotootie into that. And you will not tell me otherwise and crush my dreams. You will NOT do that to me. I WILL HAVE THAT ASS.
Of course, that’s not the only reason I run. That would be shallow.
I also run because it’s good for me, it makes me feel good, it’s a whole new reason to shop, and I can drink more wine with no weight gain.
I tried a lunch time run today from my office. It wasn’t half bad. We have shower rooms here, although I have never used them. Turns out, they are pretty freaking gross. Regardless, I got my run in. I ran 3 miles, as fast as I could. Which turns out to be a whooping 9:17 mile. This might not sound like much, but it’s a heck a lot of better than when I started running and was topping out at 14 minute miles. I will take it.
The problem with lunch time running isn’t my grody shower rooms. Rather, it’s that when I get back from running, I am very excited about it and I want to talk about it. Poor Casey suffers every time I get home from a run. “Want to hear about my run? I totally crushed it. I went up this one hill and down another and it was BRUTAL but I kept going, even though my knee was tweaking and I wanted to stop. I kept going because I want an ass like Gaga.”
His eyes just glaze over and he watches ESPN while pretending to listen to me. Sometimes I think he regrets encouraging me in this hobby. Turns out my coworkers aren’t even kind enough to pretend. They see me coming and pick up their phones to look busy. Haters.
Anyhoo! There you have it. My motivation. Glutes like Gaga. And maybe one day to break a 9 minute mile. You never know. Stranger things have happened.
Yours in being sweaty at work,