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Poop.


I just got back from a run. 3.2 miles, in fact, just to check my 5k time. Due to schedules and life, I’ve been mostly relegated to running on a treadmill in my basement. Let me tell you, I am speedy-speedy quick on that thing. So much so, that I was super optimistic heading out the door. But here’s the problem: gravity is apparently much, much stronger outside. My time? Not so good.

I’m more than a little disappointed, because I recently set what I thought was a challenging, but doable goal for myself; a 25 minute 5k. Perhaps by the end of the summer. Not quick, not like a “real” runner, but completely respectable in my mind. I told my friends and we all hmmmed and aahhhed and agreed that it sounded like a great challenge. What I didn’t tell them is that it isn’t my real goal.

Because by now we’ve established that I am a bit of a loon, my real goal is to finish in under 22 minutes. 21: anything. And why? Because that’s how quickly Daris ran it on Biggest Loser, that’s why. Sure he’s 20 years younger and has been doing nothing for the past six months but working out 5 and 6 hours a day…. What’s your point? I know, I KNOW, it’s just how my brain works. Sometimes I just set my mind on a random desire. It makes about as much sense as saying, “I am going to have size 7 feet” and then mentally willing my bones to shrink.

Aaaargh. It’s so impossible, I can’t even tell you. I am built all wrong for this endeavor. I run like a duck walks. I lead with my chin and then the caboose snaps forward and catches up; chin, caboose, chin, caboose. That’s a lot of extra motion for someone trying to speed down the parkway. At least I’m amusing the bikers. It reminds me of when I was involved with speech competitions in high school. The two things that my coach hated, hated about my presentations were:
1) my “witchy, bitchy female voice” (his words, exactly) and
2) the fact that he felt I approached the podium like Mae West.
And for the record there is no way that was even possible. If the uncoordinated, husky teen that I was could have intentionally done anything of the sort it would have been downright miraculous. I was just happy every time I didn’t trip. Which judging from my time today, should be my new 5k goal; ” Don’t fall on your big, Mae West bottom, Lanie.”

Poop.


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The Rise & Fall of a Momocracy

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