Run It Like Beckham

I think I may have found a new running partner. I say 'may' because he offered to join me but he also hasn't seen me run. I have informed him that he is in no way going to be held to his promise of running with me more than once, but secretly I hope he will continue to run with me because I miss having a running partner. Plus, running with an in-shape Swede will help me feel like I should be out there when I see tiny little girls prance by.

For some reason, people always think I meant to say 'Sweden' when I tell them I lived in Switzerland.

Just so we're clear, I have never lived in the land of the Swedes... only the land of awesome chocolate.

That's right. I'm importing my running partners now! That's how I roll. Who doesn't want to be friends with someone who might possibly have a couch I can sleep on in an awesome not-here location in my future travels? The Swede and I met at dance class and over the past five months have become friends. He found out about my running goals and kindly stepped up to help me. Awesome! Well, kinda...

See, the Swede was on track to become a professional footballer (soccer player, to most of you) when things didn't work out and now he travels instead. Let me repeat: PROFESSIONAL FOOTBALLER. You know, like these guys:

This is the only time I have looked at the Italian soccer team with something other than disgust.

I dislike the Italian team. As I drunkenly told an Italian one night "the Italians are the biggest opponents to soccer becoming a Summer Olympic sport because they'd never be able to field a soccer team and a diving team."

Something tells me that he and I probably have different ideas about what it means to go for a 'run'.