Breakfast out at Wildflour.
It's funny because bread is my absolute kryptonite and Wildflour is notorious for it's amazing baked goods but I have yet to cave in and buy one of them. I had a piece of their cake the other week, when a friend was visiting from Canada, but it was his piece, I shared a little bit of it and it wasn't a pastry. It wasn't bread. It didn't count.
On Thursdays I get treated out to breakfast and for a moment I don't feel like the starving athlete, broke entrepreneur that I am.
They know when I put my bandana on it's about to go down and they know when that banana is wet, before I even put it on, look out.... partly because that means I forgot to wash it so I quickly rinsed it in the boxing club sink but it still smells like high Heaven. I'm not here to be pretty. I'm here to protect the pretty and get pretty sweaty, so if that includes getting pretty smelly and nasty, then so be it. I'm here to train. I'm an athlete, not a model.
That moment when you realize your "good idea" was really a bad idea... and a painful one.
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