I don't know when I became the type of person who got out of bed at 7 a.m. on a Sunday to exercise, but it probably has something to do with the fact that I signed myself and my significant other up for the Disneyland Half Marathon in September. I also managed to coerce other family members into doing it with me, although they seem significantly more enthusiastic than I am. In any case, I'm dressed in running clothes as we speak and I have my iPod at the ready.
It helps that my jogging path is populated with other people who have the same crazy ideas about running on Sunday morning. And by "other people", I mean male people. (Of course, the occasional woman jogs by, but they don't register as highly on my radar.) There is just something lovely about watching a man run. Everything is tight and toned and they have such a look of concentration on their face. I've maintained for a while now that watching a man work out is akin to watching him make love.
That's what gets me through my miles on Sunday morning, anyway.