Tuesday, September 22, 2009

The Morning I Counted My Chickens

The first 2.5 hours of my day led me to believe it would be a magical one... but don't count your chickens before they hatch.

My alarm went off at 6:38am. Since we heard the news of some female runner getting robbed a few blocks away, these days my roommate and I meet in the living room at 6:45am for our pre-sunrise runs. Often times I wonder if the mere addition of 1 female truly deters a mugging attempt, but there's something about false security in numbers that I cling to. But let's be honest, even running together, K and I would be screwed if someone actually did approach us. Not too long ago we posed the "what if" to eachother on a whim... what if someone attacked us right now, should we stay together or split up?? Roommate was of the Stay Together variety. I subscribe to a different mentality: the I Love You and All, but You Go One Way, I'll Go the Other, Then We Have a 50/50 Chance of Surviving This Craziness. Given our polar opposite views, I see an attack going something like this.........

scary man that hasn't bathed or eaten in days, jumps out at us... we both scream at the top of our lungs, mine being volumes louder than hers thanks to genetics... I take off in the opposite direction with my best 40 yard dash stride, only to feel the undeniable force of K's tug on my shirt... and suddenly I'm running like I do in my dreams... expending incredible amounts of energy, but not going anywhere because I have another woman stuck to me screaming STAY TOGETHER STAY TOGETHER... I'm batting at her hand as if to say, I LOVE YOU AND ALL, BUT YOU GO ONE WAY, I'LL GO THE OTHER, THEN WE HAVE A 50/50 CHANCE OF SURVIVING THIS CRAZINESS, but what really comes out is LET GO, B!TCH........ you can imagine how the rest pans out. So maybe running with Roomate isn't so much "safe", but fun.

This was supposed to be about my magical morning. Ok.

So I get up without a single snooze, completely rested and ready rumble. I was in the living room by 6:44am, at which point K is usually up n' at 'em, feeding Bear and what not... but all I heard were crickets. Could it be? Could my totally reliable, organized, early riser roommate have slept in after we discussed meeting for a morning run??? I attributed her slumber to a Bachelorette weekend in Vegas, but nonetheless, already felt uber-accomplished that I was exercising when she wasn't... since it's usually the other way around. The run was fabulous. A cool breeze and a soft headwind. The sun rising earlier than usual so I didn't have to spend 30 minutes exhausting my Fight or Flight options in hypothetical attack situations. New music on my iPod. Life is good. I ran through the gates at my complex just in time to feel one single droplet on my skin. I beat the rain! I am accomplished, I am fit and I outsmarted Mother Nature. Magical morning?? I thought so. So I headed to the weight room to pump some iron, like a cherry on my morning sundae (by the way, in 1998 my dad helped me learn the Table of Elements with his corny word associations "Iron - feeeeeel the burn - Fe" I just can't shake it). . .

That's when I realized I counted my chickens too quickly.

Roommate was on the treadmill. I deducted a tally from my Magical Morning Point System.

After I did some weights and crunches, I realized I was 15 minutes late for my morning routine. This wouldn't have happened if the complex had replaced the clock after the weight room renovation. Either way, I deducted another tally for poor time management.

As I exited the weight room, God opened the heavens and poured his love on me. In the form of rain. So I sprinted across the complex, only to trip at a puddle in front of a distinguished business man. Shame on me for having an imaginary point system. -2 for that crap.

I rushed into the shower, rushed through my make-up, rushed through my hair, but worse -- I rushed through my outfit selection. I chose the Express slacks with pink and purple pin stripes. They were supercool 4 years ago, but there's something about how busy they are that turns me off these days. Like I'm a business version of a Candy Striper or something. But they didn't have to be ironed and I needed something form-fitting for my site visit (don't judge) and, HELLO, I was late! Thanks to the pastel pinstripes, I deducted another tally from my Magical Morning Point System.

By this point, it was pouring cats and dogs (which is a pretty sick analogy if you think about it, but it's common, so I use it). Then. THEN. I got to work and realized I left my umbrella in my trunk. I could have gotten it at home under the COVERED PARKING, but no, when I'm late, my brain shuts off. So in the parking lot at work, I decide to crawl through my secret fold-down-backseat into my trunk to get my umbrella . . . my Candy Striper @ss in the air . . . can't see a thing . . . grabbing cleats and baskets and FedEx slips? I don't know. But not one. single. umbrella. -8 points.

I ran through cats and dogs to the door. Down the long terrazo floor hallway, slipping and sliding into my office. A soaking wet Corporate Candy Striper ready to start her day.

Never never count your chickens before they hatch.

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