On a dark and cold morning (6:30 a.m. Sunday to be exact) a middle age but extremely attractive woman (somewhat Jessica Simpson looking) steps out her front door to be greeted by an arctic blast. Despite the dark and the cold she bravely puts one foot in front of the other as she descends her front porch steps to the sidewalk covered that is covered with a thin layer of ice and snow, all the while her minds screams "ARE YOU NUTS? THERE A POT OF COFFEE ON IN THE KITCHEN!" Her mind continues to resist for it knows what torture her body is about endure. The woman is strong. The woman is brave. She completely ignores the screams of panic her mind is emitting and begins to jog slowly down the street. The houses are unlit (as most of the people in her neighborhood are slackers). It is a silent environment but the woman knows this not because the silence is covered by the sounds of her own uncontrolled breathing and Conway Twitty crooning softly "Hello Darlin". As her breathing becomes yet more labored she decides that surely she will die from oxygen deprivation but nothing not even passing out from lack of oxygen will deter our heroine from her long training run. At one point the woman stumbles she recalls a fellow runner advising her to pick up her feet when she runs. She painfully calls her quads into action. They rebel but she offers them a deal. If they agree to pick up her feet she will allow them to have a 7 minute 3 minute ratio for the duration of the 8.07 mile run. The quads, while reluctant to work, realize the wisdom in accepting this deal. This extremely attractive (somewhat Jessica Simpson looking) woman is no longer stumbling. Her breathing becomes less labored. Lorretta Lynn beguns to sing of the misery of a having a misbehaving husband and THEN the only sound the woman hears is the sound of her own breathing. She pulls out her MP3 player in disbelief. The words "Battery Low" are flashing vengefully at her. Oh no! This cannot be! Her mind screams in horror at the thought of the duration of the run being with music. She panics. She knows the battery is cold (after all it is only 17 degrees outside). She opens her mouth and breathes on the battery in hopes of breathing new life into it. The battery does not respond....it is dead. She contemplates calling on the cell phone to request that someone bring her a new battery. She realizes that if she does this not only will the battery be dead but she would be as well (as her family, like her neighbors are slackers). In disgust she crams her headphones into her pocket and continues on. It is dayight now. Her labored breathing is mixed with the sounds of birds chirping. She has a desire to shoot the birds unless they can chirp something by Reba McIntyre. Onward she goes. Past Burger King, where the smell of bacon is wafting though the air. Her son's house is not far away, but she knows, she will not be met with open arms and a cup of coffee this early on a Sunday morning. Her daughter's house is next, again she does not stop. She knows her daughter will tell her if she wants coffee to jog back to Burger King and get some. The woman feels very sad indeed that no one in her family joins her on these early morning execursions or even says "Please stop by and I will give you nourishment on your journey". A solitary tear falls down the woman's cheek. Oh no! She wipes it away and realizes that it is not a tear but the sweat of her brow. She wonders how can one sweat when it is 17 degrees. Her wrists having been exposed to the elements are now red and wind burnt. She wonders if she is getting frost bite. Can one die of frost bite? She decides not to fret over frost bite as it will probably be the oxygen deprivation that kills her. Finally finally she comes to the main road. What will it be? The big hill on the bridge with the fun filled down hill or the flat road? The sidewalks are snow covered and icy going over the bridge. She pictures falling and then hurtling over the rail to her demise. The woman turns toward the flat road. She has chosen her path. The home stretch is near. Her quads have served her well under the agreement. She now turns on her quads and says there will be no more 3/7. The rest of the route will be finished with no walking. Her quads do not complain but her lungs claim her to be a traitor and a liar. In protest they begun to burn and threaten to collapse. She begs. She pleads, "Surely surely you can handle the rest of the journey" Her lungs begun to heave but she sees her house beckoning her, she decides she can breathe when she gets home and picks up the pace and speeds toward her front porch. The middle age but extremely attractive woman (somewhat Jessica Simpson looking) skids to a stop. She has made it. She is alive. She takes a deep breath and begins her cool down stretch.
Stay tuned for next week. Will the woman make it thru 9 miles or will she suffer oxygen deprivation and keel over dead?
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