Buggercise: Rose Bowl redux

Shortly after my ridiculous attempt to pilot my Graco tandem monster stroller around the Rose Bowl, I decided to give my friend's double jogger a test drive. Thank God she said I could keep it indefinitely, because reading herein that I am never, ever giving it back might have been awkward.

While quite easy to set up and break down, it is a double stroller after all - a veritable behemoth requiring some exertion to muscle in and out of the back of my 4Runner. Some days when I don't feel like working out, I just lift it in and out of the trunk a couple of times to generate a little sweat. I've finally figured out how to position it properly back there, so it doesn't tip over when I turn or go over bumps. Sorry, Buggledog.

But the extra effort pays off: this baby glides like Dirk Diggler slathered in Crisco.

The first time I took it to the Rose Bowl, I actually started jogging, something the public hasn't seen me do voluntarily since the early Reagan administration. Consequently, about two-thirds of the way around I pulled a groin muscle, which also hasn't happened in ages (poor Bugglehubby). But I pushed through the pain, completing the three mile perimeter in just under six hours, forty-two minutes (including drink breaks and a scenic detour to Baja Fresh).

Workout Stats
Smokin' bod count: Zero, unless you count me in my orange terry cloth peddle pushers at a steady 2.8 mph clip, yo
iPod shuffle quality: High. That Fergie song about her blanket into Lovely Day into California by Tom Petty rounded out by a little Chili Peppers. Enough to transform me into the pop diva princess that lingers within. . .
Fanny pats: Zero, though Buggledog did sniff my outer thigh as we were jogging. Not exactly a Boogie Nights moment, but encouraging just the same.
Sightings: Just friendly night stick guy.
Cravings: None. Realized that if I have enough time to crave something, I'm not working out hard enough.
Excuses/complaints: See above groin injury.