Last week, I survived my second epic run from my house to Canary Wharf, London’s Financial District. As I reached my finish line and tried to stop my small cardiac muscle from bursting, I was approached by a lady (yes, she was pretty) and asked if I could complete a survey for her project. At this point, my heart was still in overdrive, my brain in mush, and my sweaty self not looking all too sexy. So of course, I said yes.

Read more "Me, The Enigma: The 3 Common Things People Mistake About Me."