HardCORE

I've been joking to a few people recently that I feel like spaghetti. Let's not get caught up in the actual shape here... I'm talking about a heaping pile of soggy starch. Like I have zero muscle content, and at any moment two dogs are going to suck me into a slobbery kiss.

I want to be al dente!

And as it turns out, a little love to my core would also help me on the track. According to Active:

Think of your body like a car. If you put a Ferrari engine (your lungs and heart) in the chassis of a compact economy car (your muscles, ligaments and bones), what's going to happen?

So after I googled the word chassis, and thanks to one of my biggest inspirations on this journey, I decided it was time to go to bootcamp. It wasn't my first gym class. I've experienced my fair share of "Butts & Guts" and "Total Body Sculpt", but this one was different. I don't even know the actual name, but I'm going to call it "Sweat Your Ass Off, You F'n Weakling".  I was supremely frustrated with myself. I knew my strengths (the cardio), and I got to intimately know my weaknesses (everything else). It was a wake up call that I need to keep working on my core, because without a core, I'm just a noodle. And I should be doing everything I can to prevent injuries and delay fatigue as I start approaching these longer runs.

And because I want you all to know that I am human (and I'm not a changed woman yet), bootcamp was followed the next day by a shameful dinner at Guy's American Kitchen & Bar in Times Square.

Let it be on the record though that while it was "shameful" because I'm supposed to be training for a half marathon and not shocking my body with fat and sodium, I'm NOT knocking Guy's eats. We've all read the NY Times review. Even people who don't live in New York City or know how to pronounce his last name have read it. I don't know why I'm feeling particularly anti-Pete Wells today, or why I'm defending Guy Fieri like he's family (who knows), but I hate this review for a couple of reasons: 1) I can't get past the rotting pumpkin featured in the cover photo, and 2) Who talks in ALL questions like that?

So here's my retort to the review (because I'm pretty sure Mr. Wells is following my blog):

Were you really expecting anything different from a man whose biggest claim to fame is a show about greasy, fried foods? Is there really such a thing as too many dips, or maybe we should just pour "ruinous sauces" all over your bland personality?  If I owned Flavor Town, would I even have invited you? And are you as awesome as the "Awesome" Pretzel Chicken Tenders? No.

Funny thing is, there's no spaghetti on the menu.