If we were speaking face to face, you would instantly sense the desperation in my voice. But as we are not, I need to let you know that I AM PANICKING BECAUSE I JUST REALIZED I’VE MADE THE STUPIDEST DECISION IN ALL OF MY 20.8 YEARS!!
I can hear you now. “Oh, Anna. Tell me you did not get suckered into buying the Shamwow. I mean, just take a gander at the first half of the word.”
If only. We are dealing with something far worse than the purchase of a superfluous infomercial product. We are dealing with the fact that the neurotransmitters in my brain stepped out to lunch long enough for me to sign up to run a 5k when the truth is that the three R’s (roaches, rats, and running) are the things I detest most in the totality of the universe!
But it wasn’t enough to just get myself into this muddle; oh no, I had to go and pull Brooke into it all too (sorry, girl. And you’ve always been such a true friend…) Thus, for several early mornings in a row it’s been Brooke, me, and Dr. Brown at the rec center cardio room, engulfed in silence save for the soft whirring of the elliptical machine. (I must admit, collapsing jogging on the treadmill next to your former English professor is a little awkward. But not as awkward as the thought of being passed by a gaggle of visor-sporting 60-year-old women as I plod along the sidewalk like a sad, sweaty, I-don’t-even-know-what.)
The running commences this Friday at midnight. If I haven’t checked in with you within a week to let you know how it went you can safely assume my leg muscles overheated, giving way to spontaneous combustion, which then melted the skin off my fingers, inhibiting my ability to type. In which case this blog will be sold to the highest bidder. I don’t care what you do with it as long as you keep the “to the Max” part. Any Maxes lurking out there? Max to the Max would be kinda catchy.