Hell

While I was on a conference call the other day, I received an email from one of my co-workers. Actually, she's the one who tricked me into completing the 81-floor stair climb two years ago.

Anyway, she invited me to a run the Warrior Dash with she and her family (who are all athletes and her husband does those 70 mile ultra-marathons). I scanned the website, half-paying attention to my teleconference.

3.19 hellish miles?

What the heck? Why not? I've been trying to get out there to do more social exercising. I quickly signed up and paid the entrance fee before I could talk myself out of it.

And then I immediately crawled under my desk in a panic and thought, “SHE’LL NEVER FIND ME HERE ON RACE DAY!”

(Great. Now I’ve blown my own hideout.)

Truth be told, I have no business doing a race like this. The running portions—fine. And the repelling portions—okay, once I actually figure out how to repel. But the obstacle portions? Ummm…to say that I have a flagrant lack of upper body strength would be an understatement. I sometimes get fatigued curling my hair. So please, if I don’t show up for work that next Monday, can someone please come and check the field? I’ll be the one sitting at the base of the wall climb, hurling myself at it on occasion in a lame attempt to scale over it. Birds and other wildlife will be perched atop it, mocking my noodle arms.

Time to install a chin-up bar in the living room.

Or maybe in the kitchen.

Or both.

I know I have time to train...but is it bad that I'm sort of dreading summer because of this race on my horizon?!

Guess I've run out of excuses as to why I cannot exercise daily. Plus, the fear of public humiliation is a very real threat, as the results from the race are posted online.

[Gulp.]

Time to hit the dreadmill!