Monday, April 6, 2020

Return to Zero...

In an effort to counteract my quarantine cravings, I decided to run to the post office, a mere mile away.  I'm not a very proficient runner but it seriously feels like the score is CARBS 10, JODI 0!   You may picture me striding gazelle-like, with the ocean on my left and the Keys breeze in my hair.  Graceful and athletic, ponytail bouncing, gliding effortlessly while the carbs (wines a carb, right?) just fall away.  Bemused smile on my face as I match the musical beat in my airpods, smugly wondering what all the unmotivated are doing today..

Let me tell you how it REALLY was.  Picture the Little Engine that Could.  I think I can, I think I can.  I plod along with no real technique under the blazing 87 degree sun without a hint of a breeze.  My sea hag hair, sweaty and stringy is falling out of it's ponytail and my face is the color of a strawberry.  I'm panting like a dog and possibly smell similarly.  I finally build up a head of steam (approx. 2 mph!) and even cheerily wave at some passing cars.  Look at me-I'm an athlete!  Suddenly, I find myself on the concrete, flat on my belly.  I totally bit it and my knees are bleeding.  I hop? up quickly and try to play it off as, say, a random coconut causing me to trip.  My chin hurts and both of my palms are bleeding like some weird Lenten stigmata.  I decide to walk the rest of the way.  Like a gazelle taken down by a zebra, I limp home to lick my wounds. 

Final score: RUNNING 0,  WINE 10!

Stay safe my friends. XOXO

2 comments:

the walking man said...

The pride is found in the attempt and the grace in the getting up. Liking the wounds on the other hand...

jodi said...

Mark, thank you for assuaging my embarrassment a little! However, I did not LIKE my wounds, tee hee! XO ya big 'ol bear!