On Wednesday night of last week, I got a chance to run with a co-worker buddy of mine who beat me into the ground by running on the hills. It was one of those dirt paths leading to houses both of us could never afford even with a fairy god mother and a recording contract in tow.
Now, I say run, but Steph is in much better shape than me. She promptly ran me into the ground and I watched as she slowly morphed into my former personal trainer as she kept pushing me to keep running. She also noted some very big paw prints on the same path. But we were not worried. We beamed with pride as some people swim with dolphins, we were running with cougars. Besides, cougars hunted at night and it was merely early evening. Our scenic run went for about four miles.
We came back to the rental car parked on the side of the road. Then with iPhone in one hand and a GPS in another, we took our sweaty selves in search of a Greek restaurant that stayed open past nine PM. After a few, "we close at nine - most runners get eaten by cougars to be justify being open later" inquiry phone calls, we hit upon something called The Great Greek on Ventura Ave.
There we left our diets tied to the parking meter. We ordered something called the Great Feast and needed to have at least 2 people to eat. These good people gave us little plates of eating joy. Greek salad, pitas, hummus, greek sauces, pasta, grilled chicken, etc quickly got moved to each of our plates. Steph and I hardly looked up as we inhaled this really tasty food. We took notes of what we were eating for future reference. Every bite lead to a desire for more. And that of course lead to another renewed promise to drop more weight as time slips by.
