I am sitting at my desk and fantasizing. Not about vegging on the couch, watching movies, writing, eating ice cream, or drinking an amazing wine, but about exercising. Specifically, running. I hate running. I have exercise-induced asthma, I have flat feet, and I get side stitches. I also have crippling childhood memories of forced running in gym class. Everybody else would be done, and I would still be puffing through my ten-and-a-half-minute mile. There are old ladies who can walk faster than that.
Nevertheless, I'm really really wishing it weren't 20 degrees out and/or that I had a treadmill.