I enjoy reading running blogs, it’s a subject I find myself very interested in and unlike other pursuits runners really like blogging about running. I once perused the web for a blog by an equestrian and guess what? Kind of limited.
But as you can imagine, the healthy living and running genres tend to blend together and one of my favorites is always Hungry Runner Girl. Unlike some other blogs that I’ve read, girl works hard for her times and seems kind of normal and human so it works for me. But there are always photos of salads. Big, giant salads. Typically, I consider myself immune to the powers of suggestion and hell, I’m an independent thinker who can’t be swayed by anyone! But lately I’ve been walking around thinking, “damn, I really want a salad.”
Yeah, that’s right, the girl who has a rep for finishing her co-workers’ french fries at lunch craved a salad. [No, really, apparently my male co-workers are incapable of finishing a small order of fries and that disgusts me. Waste not, want not and since I didn’t buy it it doesn’t count calorically speaking.]
So on my way home, I passed a Chop’t salad place in Union Station. Damn, that salad was both huge and delicious. It’s like a salad bar except slightly more sanitary because someone puts the salad together instead of having a bunch of people touch the salad and sneeze into it, etc.
I kinda wanted four salads.
Ritual dictates that I get my dinner at Chipotle and wait until I get on the train to eat it, but this time I was too impatient for my salad so I ate while I was waiting to get on the train and it was delicious. It had:
Romaine Lettuce (like there’s another kind)
And now all I can think is that I really want another salad, only they never taste good when I make them myself. I also keep thinking of that episode of Portlandia where Steve Buscemi is trying to sell the world on celery only to be thwarted by the corn monopoly and that punk who’s getting everyone to eat brussel sprouts.