Bad sneakers and a pina colada

Hold the phone -- there's nothing like a new bomb-ass pair of running shoes to kick the ass out of the same old stupid running routine. A visit to an athletic purveyor called Jackrabbit culminated in the purchase, which came as a result of a recorded jog on their test treadmill. The kindly salesperson examined my gait for clues as to which shoe would be best.

The good news: I do not pronate. Repeat, NOT pronate.

My science is too tight for you to deny. I'ma run away now on two leathery marshmallows. Or at least, that's what it feels like, suckahs.