Twenty Six Degrees

26 degrees.

That’s the temperature it will be at 6am tomorrow. When I’m starting out on the Catawba Run Around.

It will be 26 degrees. Here. Where I live. Not even on a mountain.

Which means it will probably be 16 degrees on North Mountain.

Which is already the worst place in the world.

I was pretty sure I was gonna call in sick to work today. Because it’s 37 degrees.

And also because I maybe stopped at multiple gas stations on my way home from Chaos last night looking for hot dogs. Because the food truck cancelled. After I’d spent three hours that morning reviewing the menu and deciding what I’d eat after our run.

There was a rather handsome toad. That GJB became enamored with. And made me stop to photograph. Before he ran off with him. Before I could test his prince status.

He could’ve been the one

But at least he gave me a reason to stop. And recover.

Because Wednesday night Let Day at PlayFITStayFIT. Where I held onto Fall Risk like my life depended on it as partners were being picked. Because my life did depend on it. Because we finished that workout with a 6 minute wall sit. Where J-Vicious put a weight on my lap that had two ones and a zero on it.

And he absolutely had to put the weight on me. Because I couldn’t lift it onto my lap by myself.

Because 110 lbs.

And do you know what happens to a 45 year old woman during a six minute wall sit with 110 pounds on her lap? It was an exercise in Kegel control. I did make it about 5 minutes before I had to ask him to remove the weight. Before I passed out. Or peed myself. Or both. But then I suggested that he couldn’t line the numbers back up exactly on my legs. So he felt challenged. So he had to try. So I only got a 30 second rest.

He couldn’t, btw.

But at least he didn’t crawl into my lap. The way he did to B Major. Because he definitely weighs more than 110 lbs.

So anyway, my legs were nearly useless during last night’s run.

Which was a concern.

Because there were also coyotes during last night’s run. Like, a huge pack of really excited coyotes. Along the back stretch. Where it’s really dark. And there are no houses.

At first, we thought it might be people. They sounded that crazy.

So I howled back.

Because that’s what you do to crazy people.

But then I started getting visions of The Purge, and people chasing us with machetes, and so I stopped calling to them.

Because survival skills.

And then GJB and I stopped running. To listen better. While Everyone’s Favorite Husband and North Mountain Overlord took off with Abby. Our one line of defense.

And we realized that no. Those were definitely not people. Those were definitely coyotes.

So we took off again. To catch up to the others.

And I was pretty sure the coyotes were chasing us.

And then I had to start calculating shit. Which is how you know I’m actually worried for my life.

Because I don’t calculate while running.

Everyone’s Favorite Husband was on a bike. So I definitely couldn’t outrun him. And North Mountain Overlord was having to actively try to be as slow as me. So, I wasn’t gonna outrun him. And GJB can really kick it in at the end of a run. He’d absolutely kick it in if it came down to him surviving or me. So yeah. I was definitely gonna be the victim.

So I may have suggested GJB might need to go back for Lil T. To protect her and shit.

But he didn’t. Because she’s actually way more badass than him.

So they just took off.

And I tried to keep up.

And then I started thinking about poor Abby. Because even if North Mountain Overlord took off in a sprint, I was certain that dear, sweet Abby would escape his grasp and try to fight off the coyotes to protect me. But one dog versus and entire pack of coyotes seemed like unfair odds. So I’d have to jump in front of her to ensure her safety. Except she’d be dragging her leash and I’d undoubtedly get my feet tangled up in it. Because I can get my feet tangled up in pure air. And I’d fall and bust my front teeth out. So I wouldn’t even by mildly attractive by the time the hot paramedics got to me. Because paramedics are always hot. And so what would really be the point.

Anyway. We were fine. And I almost beat GJB back to the white car. Which is always the finish line. And I was becoming overconfident. So that I didn’t push it the whole way. Because 30 miles tomorrow. Except that asshole always ALWAYS manages to find some speed reserves at the end of every fucking run. So by the time I realized what was happening, he was already pushing past me and calling the finish.


So I had my post-run beer and peaced out. For the gas station hot dogs.

I finally rolled up into the third gas station. Where four dudes happily held the door open for me and welcomed me inside. And I found two very old, very questionable hot dogs. With super stale buns.

And I hesitated.

I did.

For a second.

And then happily loaded them up with ketchup. And relish. And mayonnaise. Grabbed a bag of chips. Paid a skeptical cashier.

And then sat in my car. Shoving all of this…let’s go ahead and call it food. Into my face. As the same four men stood at the store entrance watching. In what I think may have been a mixture of disbelief, awe, and nausea.

I may have cheersed them at one point. With half a hot dog.

Take it all in, boys. It can’t possibly end well.

Except I’ve apparently shoved so much crap into my body over the years that I’m now immune to even days old gas station hot dogs.

It’s gonna be lonely when I’m the only one who survives the apocalypse…