Saturday Night
Never mind that Dairy Queen Blizzard. In the first place, it was that convenient new “Mini” size, a mere 1,020 calories instead of 2,572. Second, tomorrow morning I will run (not walk, run) three times around the 1.2 mile path at Percy Warner Park. Even on the uphill parts. Yes, I know it’s supposed to be 157 degrees tomorrow, but I’ll rise at the crack of dawn so this won’t be a problem.
Sunday Morning, Crack of Dawn
Zzzzzzzzzz.
Sunday Morning, on the Lazy, Late-ish Side
Well, really, it’s 9:30 already? Wherever did the time go? Right, so better get my running gear on.
Just after I:
1. Eat a bowl of Shredded Wheat and Bran with sliced bananas (for energy and to prevent leg cramps).
2. Check Facebook and spend 10 minutes concocting a clever status update. (Finally arrive at: “Happy Sunday! Another hot one today!”)
3. Read an important article in People magazine on Bristol Palin.
4. Throw in a load of laundry.
5. Feed the cats their morning turkey treat and make sure Emily takes her thyroid pill.
6. Take a bath and shave my legs so they look smooth and sexy in case I run into any hottie runner types on the trail.
7. Change my running outfit three times in case I run into any hottie runner types on the trail. (Finally arrive at: navy running shorts with white tank top, white socks, and my running tennies.)
8. Check weather.com.
Egads! 157 degrees already? But it’s only…
High noon.
Speed to the park, park at the park. Right, now three times around that path, running (not walking).
Except now I’m dehydrated from the bath, so maybe I’ll just walk on the uphills, then run on the downhills.
Walking along sweating. Feel like fainting. I mean, seriously, there is no way I could run up this hill right now.
Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Get away, mean ol’ bee!
Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!!!!!!!!!!!!
Get away!
BUZZZZZ!!!!!!!!
EEEEEEEEEEEEEK! Sprint up the hill faster than Olympic 100-meter-dash winner while angry bee swarms around my body trying to find the best surface to puncture and poison. SCREAAAAAAAAAAAAAM! Utter curse words never before heard in the Bible Belt.
Whew. I think I outran him.
Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
SCREAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMM! GET AWAY, YOU &@$#*&$#@%*!
Is he gone?
Round the corner, still running, and practically smash into two hottie runner types paused on the trail chatting. Concentrate on jogging without breathing heavily. Manage to squeak, “Beautiful day for a run, eh?”
Wait until I’ve left them in the dust, then start walking again.
Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Are you ^@#$^ kidding me? SCREAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMM! Slap ear, slap left shoulder. Miss bee. Get away! GET AWAY!
Turn around to make sure no one saw that.
Arrive at the blessed downhill. Jog lightly downhill like an expert.
SCREAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMM! Get off me, you &@#$^…
…pretty butterfly.
Arrive at the end of the first lap, lucky to be alive. Gulp water like I’m in the Sahara.
Right, so with all that extra sprinting uphill and the majority of the lap spent with my pulse accelerated over the bee, maybe one lap is enough for today.
Drive directly to Dairy Queen to order a Mini Blizzard for stress cure-all.
