Sit for a spell and let me tell you the story of quite the fast runner. Her name was Zoe and there was nothing she enjoyed more than running, and running fast. She was a chicking machine, and loved running with the big boys...they pushed her.
Zoe started running in high school when her dad suggested, “Why don’t you try cross-country?” She at first thought it was a tourist-type group that would visit far away places. She was wrong. That realization was a shock not greeted with a smile, but soon she thrived off of a steady diet of miles and Pop-Tarts. She’d gone through the runner-switch and was not a complete convert, a member of the obsessive compulsive runners persuasion…there was no going back.
Her dad was a runner and she loved going with him for their weekly long runs. Unfortunately, her dad has just gotten remarried to a non-runner. Worse, this lady was a smoker and had two daughter of her own. Both of them were of whale-like proportions and if Zoe wasn’t as fleet with her hands as she was with her feet she’d be hard pressed to make sure she had something for the crucial post-run 30-minute refuel window.
Tragedy struck when her father suddenly died, they never really found out exactly why but Zoe had a suspicion he was crushed by his wife when she had rolled over onto the slender runner while he slept. At any rate, Zoe was left all alone with this trio.
They liked to boss her around, tie her shoe-laces in knots so big Zoe had to spend 20 minutes in the morning trying to un-tie them so she could go on her run. They ate all her S’mores Pop-Tarts, they stretched out her running uniform (she never could fathom how they were able to actually get into those bunhuggers at all), and worst of all they stole her Garmin.
Zoe hunted all over for that Garmin, it was the latest one and more than a watch, sort of like watches on steroids. But it was a sweet training tool and she wanted to wear it on the big race she had planned that weekend.
This race would be epic, it had been buzzed about and hyped for months. Their city’s governator was hoping to draw the fastest runners from across the land. He’d even sprung to have a posse of Africans come in special; sure, he’d paid a pretty penny to their agents but he was certain it was worth it.
Zoe had spent days searching high and low for her beloved Garmin, so much so that her horrible step-sisters began to tease and taunt her. They’d chant, “Garmerella, Garmerella, oh where might your Garmin be? You haven’t a clue, of that we can see, you’ll surely fall flat and probably lose a shoe too!”
Zoe Garmerella to death. But she kept looking and of course still pounded out that training. (Word on the street she was a Team Cait member for the Miles Madness Competition even! haha.)
The day of the big race, no sign of the Garmin, but Garmerella was primed and ready to PR. She’d earned a spot at the front of the starting line and hoped to take this race for the Americans. Though, her wrist felt naked and in the back of her mind she was remiss that her beloved Garmin, which had been through so many grueling workouts, countless miles and endless repeats would not be with her to share the fruits of all that labor.
Her last stride done and now poised at the line, she caught a flicker of movement from the corner of her eye. She turned to the left just as a handsome runnerdude was about to tap her on the shoulder, “Excuse me, is this your’s?”
Garmerella’s eyes lit up, and not just because this was on hot runnerdude, but because in his hands was her Garmin!! “Oh my gosh, yes, it is mine!”
Handsome runnerdude held up the Garmin and slipped it neatly around her wrist…it was a perfect fit. Of course it was, right?
Anyways, let’s cut to the chase here…the gun went off…BANG!! Out tore Garmerella, she tucked in behind African runner 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6…dang, it was a full posse out there! The miles ticked by, her Garmin beeped each one, and Garmerella was on pace for a big PR.
Gradually the pack cut down to four, then three, and by the last mile it was just herself and one other…they ran side by side. Which really was idiotic considering they should be running the tangents and all the drafting stuff too, but I digress.
Garmerella was wrought with the oh-so-familiar sense of lactic acid assault but she knew the Kenyan was working too. They were testing each other, each trying to drop the other but to no avail…with 400 to go Garmerella knew it would be close. Down the last straight she saw the finish line ahead, the coveted tape she wanted to badly to break…she closed her eyes and dug.
The roar of the crowd fell on her deaf ears, all she heard was the pounding of her heart, the panting breaths of her and her competitor. She dug for the last gear and…
…felt the tape break, actually right across her left wrist on her Garmin. How’s that for irony?
She’d set a PR, won the race and even chicked most of the men in the field. Not all of them though, because as she worked her way through the chute her eyes met with the handsome runnerdude of just a speedy 10k time’s space before. A bit runner-mussed with lingering beads of sweat, he’d finished already but waited to see how she’d fare. Plus, let’s be honest, the whole speed-goggles factor just about upped both of their hottness points.
They embraced in a sweaty hug. Though only for a moment because it was obviously time to cool down.
Their backs turned on us, Dear Readers, they head off apace and if you listen real closely you’ll hear just one quick, faint beep from her Garmin.
1) What age did you start running, did either of your parents run? What is the runner factor in your family, how many are crazy like us?
2) What should happen to those evil three women: the step-mother and step-sisters?
3) When you’re racing do you tend to not hear the crowd, do you pick out some of the shouts, can you hear one specific person above the rest?
When I raced it was funny, I could usually always pick out my Mommy-O’s voice or the one of my coach. The rest was kind of Peanut’s adult blabber.