There’s no easy way out. There’s no shortcut ho-o-ome.

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It’s still snowing outside.

And it’s hard to say how much we’ve gotten so far.

The wind is blowing so hard that we have some drifts of well over 2 feet.

But then there are spots that maybe only have a foot.

I’d say we’ve gotten somewhere around 18-20 inches so far.

Anyway, you know I’m competing in this Lose to Win program at the Y.

And I told you that there are these individual categories that you can win:  fitness classes attended, spin classes attended, total number of cardio minutes, and number of laps swum.

Last week I was still in 1st place in the swimming.

I was 3rd in the cardio minutes.

The person in first place had 2488 minutes.

Second was 2380.

And I had 2326.

So I’m 162 minutes back.  Almost 3 hours to make up still.

That first place chick is averaging  just under 830 minutes a week. 

So I need to do at least 900 minutes a week to catch up.

I know I’m boring you with these details, but I’m getting to my point.

Yesterday the Y closed at 11 due to the storm, and since there was no school and all the kids were home, I didn’t make it over there to workout.

At about 10 I ran to Costco to get some food.

It had just started snowing.  The roads were still clear.

My husband was home, so I was going to go for a run when I got back.

Well, in the 45 minutes I was gone, the roads went from fine to, um,

not fine.

I have a Suburban.  And driving in the snow doesn’t bother me.

But the snow had accumulated enough while I was in Costco that I put the car into four wheel drive on my way home.

I was about a half mile from the house.

There was a dude in a pickup truck right up my ass.

He was pissing me off, so I drove just a little bit slower than I normally would have.

You know, to piss him off.

I hit a really slippery spot.

And I felt the car start to slide.

I tapped the brakes.

And I started skidding.

And spinning.

I took my foot off the brakes.

I was praying for the car to right itself.

But it didn’t.

I was headed straight for a telephone pole, going backwards, looking directly at the douche who was up my ass just seconds before.

I think I closed my eyes.

And I braced myself for the impact of the telephone pole.

But thanks to a freaking miracle, I did a complete 360 and the car came to a full stop.

Like Tom fucking Cruise in Mission Impossible.

I was right back to where I started.

Except I was on the wrong side of the road.

Someone was watching over me, because there was no one coming the other direction.

So I gathered my wits, and proceded to drive up the hill.

When I got to the stop sign at the top of the hill,

(yes, this happened going up a hill)

I was turning left.

The douche in the pickup was turning right.

He pulled up on the right side of me and rolled down his window.

Great.

So I rolled down mine.

“That was some fancy driving,” he said, an annoying smirk on his face.

I was still a little rattled.

And I couldn’t come up with anything witty.

All I managed to say was,

“I think I just shit my pants.”

And off he went.

So anyway, going for a run was out of the question.

Going for a run on the road, anyway.

We don’t have any sort of exercise equipment at home.   You know, like a treadmill or anything.

And trying to do anything with all 7 kids in the house is impossible anyway.

So I went old school.

We have a big back yard.

 There it is.

You see that little black dot?

Let me zoom in a little.

 Yep.

There I am.

Running.

Like a ninja.

In a fucking blizzard.

 No mothereffing blizzard is going to stop me.

I did that for an hour and a half.

Ninety minutes.

Running laps around my back yard.

While the kids were sledding, I was running.

And running.

Like an abominable Forest Gump.

Pretty much every minute of it sucked.

But the feeling at the end didn’t.

 Nope.

That felt more like this:

I don’t know what I’m going to do today.

Maybe a little of this.

Watch out 2488 Minutes.

Snow or no snow, I coming for your ass.

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