Well F* you too Fitness

So despite having the beginnings of a spring cold I forced myself out for a run today. Setting a pretty good rhythm 1/2 way through my run I hit one of the passages in the champs de Mars when all of a sudden something rebounded off my chin and splattered all over my front. I fond myself with bird crap all in the zipper of my sweat. A group of toursist just looked at me wiping my face and just struggling to not vomit between the general feeling of being sick and the complete disgust of what I had suddenly encountered.  All I could do was shrug “Well that’s what I get for being healthy.”

But I finished running and took a cute picture of two ducks on my way home.

A+EmilieinParisphoto

 

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About Emilie

I'm a small girl with big ambitions and very little common sense it seems. I decided after I graduated from college that I would move from my little city of Lafayette Louisiana to the raging monster city that is Paris. In 4 months of planning I have now uprooted everything I had in an amazing town to live in a truly wild place where I have no idea WHAT I am going to do. But isn't that the fun of it all. So here is cheers to getting lost, breaking hearts, starving, and many wonderful adventures that come along with finding yourself.
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6 Responses to Well F* you too Fitness

  1. Jane Vidrine says:

    Good try. Keep it up. What are the odds that will happen again? Oh yeah, it’s Paris. I guess I shouldn’t bet on them odds.

    Love, mom

  2. Ellen Paulin says:

    As disgusting as this might be it’s considered good luck to be hit by bird crap! Enjoying your posts and pictures of Paris. Hope you feel better. Ellen > WordPress.com > Emilie posted: “So despite having the beginnings of a spring cold I > forced myself out for a run today. Setting a pretty good rhythm 1/2 > way through my run I hit one of the passages in the champs de Mars > when all of a sudden something rebounded off my chin and splattered ” >

  3. maryann says:

    Humm, I’m wondering about the angle of your chin – that’s what happens when you’ve got your eyes fixed on the stars. The French habitually go about their business with their chin down, eyes scruting the ground for dog poop. Better for the bird crap to hit the back of the head, I suppose, but all that makes for less sparkle in French eyes!

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