Years ago I lived near Lake Harriet.  I used to love to walk around the lake, and sometimes I would say I even did it regularly.  Several times while walking around that lake I would see the same man, who was about 60 years old.  He was a memorable man, because of his running attire.  He was always wearing the same thing: brown loafers, brown dress pants, and a cream button down shirt.  By the second or third time of passing him (we were always going in opposite directions around the lake), his shirt would be wide open and his white undershirt would be hanging out.  It was as if he was on his way home from work and thought, "I should go for a run, but I'm in my work clothes...oh well."

The last few weeks, I've been exercising after work.  Sometimes the worst party of the exercising is changing clothes before and after.  It's just getting so difficult being so pregnant.  Yesterday, I actually thought to myself, "Maybe I could just work out in my dress clothes."

Then I remembered the man at Lake Harriet.  Suddenly it was as if his running in his fancy pants made sense.  I felt bad for thinking he was so strange. 

But no matter how big my belly gets, I will always change out of my fancy pants before I hit the gym.