The Hit On & Run So this morning I woke up a bit early to go jogging by the Hudson River. Something I like to do when it's a nice, sunny morning, like it was today. The only problem was, I felt like shit. The week had worn on me and the last thing I wanted to do on a Friday morning was to go run for an hour. But I did it anyway. I dragged my sorry ass out of bed and threw on my all back outfit (I looked like I was attending a professional jogger's funeral) and I hit the pavement. The hour went by, and just three blocks away from my apartment, the sweet release of my shower and giant bottle of water I was stopped at a light. "Excuse me miss," I turn to see a man had approached me and was looking me up and down. Mind you I have no make up on, extra baggy eyes, am pretty sweaty from my workout and having forgotten to put on deodorant, probably smelly. The one thing I did have working for me were my thin-fit technology sewn yoga pants that made my legs and ass look much more toned than they actually are. "Yeah," I panted. "How many miles would you say you run?" "About four," I looked around, the light was about to change. "Wow, that's about, that's like, a-" He was trying to do the math. "That's about 80 blocks, that's good. So, um-" The light changed. "Gotta run!" I ran across the street and could make out his parting words. "Keep up the good work!" Best. Exit. Strategy. Ever.