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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.
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,
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.
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.
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.
There I am.
Like a ninja.
In a fucking blizzard.
No mothereffing blizzard is going to stop me.
I did that for an hour and a half.
Running laps around my back yard.
While the kids were sledding, I was running.
Like an abominable Forest Gump.
Pretty much every minute of it sucked.
But the feeling at the end didn’t.
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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