They Canceled Christmas

Ok, first? Ima need y’all to keep Newbie off of North Mountain until the new year.


My life has been kind of nice lately.

Outside of that shit show of a Run Almost Around a few weeks ago, no one has said anything really abusive to me like, “Hey. Let’s go run North Mountain.”

But then OT was on the Facebooks. And saw Newbie’s posts.

Two loops. Last week.

But why?

That’s the thankful week.

We don’t do shit that makes us sad during the thankful week.

We spend the thankful week being thankful. That we’re not on North Fucking Mountain.

But it was inevitable.

“Mount up, grasshopper. It’s time.”


Life had been so…comfortable.

I mean, obviously not comfortable comfortable. Because Christmas Crew.

But CC level comfortable.

And really, I hadn’t done a damn thing active for three whole days.

We were supposed to do a whole bunch of shit yesterday.

POO. Then Cycle. Then hot tub. Then Christmas Mountain.

All I really saw when I was being given directives was “hot tub.”

But still. I was committed.

But then rain. And the folks that will climb a fucking mountain as tornadoes are rolling in said, meh. It’s gross. And someone mentioned something about no views.

So we canceled POO.

But 1pm Cycle was still on. Because Beautiful Beastie is required to teach that.

So we showed up.

And as we were setting up our phones to connect to the pretty colors on the bikes that would tell everyone how much effort we were exerting, because I need that kind of judgement in my life, BB said something about two hours.



Did she say this class is two hours?

Of cycling or…

Ok, let’s go!


About ten minutes in, Everyone’s Favorite Husband looks over at me.

Are you eating chips??

Your wife said I should. Or could. Or maybe would? Whatever. Two hours, dude. This is all about survival.

About 20 minutes in, when my light hadn’t move beyond white. The lowest exertion indicator. The, hey I’m just out for an easy ride on my way over to grab a peanut butter coffee from crankshaft or whatever it’s called, light. And yet I was very much gasping for air while trying not to aspirate on the sweat pouring off of my face and in no way in any condition to drink peanut butter coffee. BB asked me what athletic level I’d claimed on the app.

Ummmm, expert level. Obviously.

Looking around.

…is that not what y’all picked…?

Of course, about that time, Dude With The Charming And Disarming Smile rolled in. And he actually is expert level athletic. And also hasn’t already been cycling for 30 minutes. And it’s fine. I’m fine. You just be quiet back there. While I try to breath.

But then another ten minutes and I see Rogue pull into the parking lot. Because she’s Rogue. And obviously I should step out to go greet her. She really shouldn’t be left to wander around without an escort.

So anyway, that’s how I ended up in the hot tub. With Rogue. And Mama Ange. Who also dipped out. After only 50 minutes of class. Only. Fifty minutes. Of hard core cycling.

While the rest of them spent another hour cycling and then apparently doing some sit-ups or something. I don’t actually know. Because hot tub.

But Finn’s Dad said something about everyone working on their Easter Abs.

And BB suggested that we shouldn’t need abs for Easter. Because we will probably all be fully clothed for that holiday.

And then she remembered it was us.


It’s fine. Apparently this is how all of our Sundays are gonna be. Until Easter. Just two hours of cycle/core work. Every Sunday. And also hot tub.

Soooo, I guess my undercarriage is just gonna be bruised for the next four months. Because damn. One hour on a bike. Things are uncomfortable. Two hours every Sunday until the end of time should really kill all of the nerve endings down there. Or maybe it will just toughen up? Because that seems like something that should happen. The scabbing on my right ass cheek is probably not enough of a man deterrent. I need more to increase my level of unattractiveness.

But anyway, so I guess the extra little work they did was too much for them? Because the rest of the plan started to fall apart in the hot tub.

It started with K-Rob. Announcing that she was not, in fact, going to Christmas.


And the DeFrosts.


And Finn’s Dad and Tiny Brazilian apparently hadn’t ever even planned on going.

And Rogue said she was out.

And even fucking OT…

But…it’s Christmas…


Just GJB and I?

That seems unwise.

I really don’t want to be in charge of him all by myself on that mountain.

Y’all know him. And the shit he gets into.

At least when OT’s with us, I have a little help. I mean, he’s even harder to supervise. But if something goes down, I can at least direct him to drag bodies around and shit.

But folks kept saying something about no views.

So we canceled Christmas.

Which is probably ok.

Because Mexican food and beer as substitute.

But ok. So back to North Mountain.

So, apparently this shit is gonna end on New Years.

Don’t fight me on this. Drinkwater said. And I need to believe this.

So OT, Rogue, and I just have to hold Newbie and Parkhurst off until then.

And I’m not sayin we’re gonna run North Fucking Mountain this week…on Wednesday…after work…

But I better not see anyone except Drinkwater and my Christmas Crew out on that fucking Mountain until January 2nd.

Because I need life to keep being kind of ok right now.

And I need to be first place female at least once in my life.

And third overall.

This will never ever happen again.


I need this.

Just please let me have it.

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