Friday, July 26, 2013

The hardest part is coming up with a title.

It's been almost 2 years since I started running

2 LONG years. 

During that time there have been periods when I felt ok about it, and many more periods when I wanted to die, or quit or just find something less, you know, runny, to do on my lunch breaks, but for some reason I've stuck with it. I don't know if it's because I'm stubborn and don't want to quit, or I'm lazy and don't want to have to find a different way of trying to keep from dying young. 

For the past 2 weeks I've felt like I'm finally getting the hang of it. I don't want to mess up my karma or anything, but it's almost been fun running lately. Have I lost my mind? (Please, my mind has been lost for so long, that's probably how I ended up running in the first place.)

Alas, this is not a post about me finally turning a corner and not hating to run, this is a post about determination. Will. Inner strength. The power to overcome. 

I wouldn't say I'm extremely competitive, but I am a little stitious....just kidding (superstitious, a little stitious? What? You don't watch The Office? Never mind...).  

I like to win, but not so much I'm going to throw chairs or anything if I don't. When I'm on the treadmill I like to "beat" the person next to me. Which is not such a hard thing to do at the Y, most of the time the person next to me is 80 years old and wearing a fishing cap and sandals. The other day I had an experience that truly tested my will to "win" the treadmill Olympics. 

The treadmill I used that day happened to be directly in front of one of the 4 TVs at the Y. Also, please note, this is an important detail, it was not crowded AT ALL. Maybe 10 people in the whole place. Plenty of TVs to go around, if you get what I'm saying.

So, I'm running along with my headphones in, listening to This American Life, like I do, when this guy comes over and uses "sign language" to ask me if I'm watching the TV. I tell him no and he goes to switch the channel. There's no browsing, this guy knows EXACTLY where he's going. That's right, it's time for Walker Texas Ranger. Y'all, I love me some Ira Glass, but before I knew it Chuck Norris had my full and undivided attention. I mean seriously, high kicking like that in those tight Wranglers? That guy is a national treasure. At one point he beat up 5 masked men..BY HIMSELF...then he just told them to get lost. He didn't even bother arresting them, I betcha it was because research has shown that gettin' yer butt kicked by Walker Texas Ranger is FAR better at deterring a man from a life of crime than years and years in prison. 

Right, so I'm running along, feeling pretty good, having a laugh or two at Chuck's expense, when out of the corner of my eye I see channel changer guy get on the treadmill 2 down from me. He's arranged a fan to blow on him, his TV is all set up, he's ready to roll. 

After not very long, I don't know, Chuck had time to beat up maybe 10 or 12 more bad guys, I notice there is some B.O. in the air. Look, it's the gym, I know everybody ain't gonna smell nice, but this was B.O. Not like I've been working out really hard for a long time, more like, I haven't showered in a couple of days and now I am on the treadmill 2 down from you with a fan blowing my stench in your direction. It was awful.

The old me, from last month, would have taken this as all the excuse she needed to pack up and call it a day. It was not a pleasant situation. But the new me was not ready to end her run, and dang it, there was no way I was letting some smelling guy who likes bad TV chase me out of town. There was no choice, I just kept running. I turned my head away when I needed to, I covered my nose with my shirt a couple of times, but by golly I finished my run. 

When I was done I went to grab a towel to wipe my sweat off the machine. I'm courteous like that. When I got back to my treadmill, 20 SECONDS LATER, B.O. guy was waiting there. He wondered if I was done. See, my treadmill was DIRECTLY in front of the TV, much more convenient for subtitle reading. 

It made me wonder if B.O. guy had known of his odious odor and purposely positioned that fan to blow his stink from him to me trying to force me out. 

Walker T. Ranger would have been proud of me for standing my ground, of course he would have been prouder if I'd high kicked that guy, but whatever. 

Finally, because it's the weekend and you maybe planning to see a movie...Last Saturday we saw World War Z. It's not the kind of thing I would normally watch, it was my son's birthday and he picked the movie...blah...blah 

HOLY CRAP! It wasn't creepy scary or zombie gross like I was expecting, it was however, INTENSE. Remember the last 10 minutes of Argo, when your heart was pounding and you were biting your hand and saying to yourself "JUST GET TO THE PLANE!" over and over? Well, World War Z is like the last 10 minutes of Argo, except for 2 HOURS! It was awful. But not the most awful I've ever seen. The best part for me was that the whole time, in addition to being on the edge of my seat worried that zombies were going to bite his kids, I kept wondering about Brad Pitt's haircut. I mean, really, what is up with that? But then there's a scene where the airplane he's traveling in breaks open and you see his hair whipping around violently and you get it. The bad hair makes that moment so much more than it would have been if his hair had been shorter, or long enough for a ponytail. It's just the right length for that scene. 

So, there you go, World War Z. Skip it. Or don't. How do I know what kind of movies you like?

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