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Does my local public school district think me Indiana Jones?

10/18/2011

Last night I slept on the futon in the attic/playroom with Sean. It was the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a long, long time mostly because Ricki Lake lulled in me to a coma on Dancing With Some People You Kinda Sorta Recognize. Does she mention John Waters/Hairspray every week? Because I’ve only watched this season twice and both times that was all she was yammering about. And her Roger Rabbit (it was 80’s week) was horrible–my 8th grade classmates did better in the 1991 Saint Bernard Talent Show running manning to Rob Base.

But I digress.

This morning I woke up at 5:45 with big speed work plans at the local track. And by “big” I mean “trying to talk myself into doing quarters instead of punk-ass 200’s.” It is now very, very Halloween dark at 6:00 AM and when I pulled into the lot behind the high school, I was so busy looking for on opening in the fence, that I drove over a very, very big island. (It takes more than a 6″ curb to bottom out the minivan, bitches!!!!) After looking like a Creepy Von Creeperton circling a school parking lot in a van that has a VCR in it, I finally just parked and walked over–but WTF? The football field is not surrounded by the track–the track is BEHIND the football field? What kind of fancy ass shit is this that a HIGH SCHOOL’S sports teams do not have to share space? Do you know how many spring track runners I pegged with lacrosse balls between 1993-1995? My school taxes must be high.

So I walk even further–in the dark–clutching my pepper spray and find the track. I also find an 8 foot fence surrounding the track and all of the gates on this 8 foot fence are locked. Another WTF?! What kind of public school locks their track? I am no Tarzan GI Jane Indiana Jones Buffy the Vampire Slayer Legend of Billy Jean and left that fence unscaled while angrily composing emails to the school district in my head as I stomped to the car. Now I was going to have to do a hill workout and I had no idea where a hill was. Some of the side streets north of the high school have good-sized hills (like the appropriately named Upland Road), but they were completely dark and there are deer running all over. Could you imagine how much I would crap my pants if I collided with a rapist deer?

FURTHERMORE, I was completely NOT dressed to run on the streets. I was wearing a heavy sweatshirt that I had planned to drop after my warmup on the track. I did not have my gloves. And most importantly, I did not have any reflective gear at all. Reflective gear is super important, especially in my town where everyone thinks stop signs are optional and crosswalks purely decorative.

But whatever. I made half-assed lemonade.

It took me about 12 minutes to find a lame excuse for a hill. I probably wouldn’t even consider it a hill on normal run, but I was desperate to salvage my Tuesday morning workout. I ran up this hill 4 times and then double backed toward the high school where I left my car. On the way back I saw another hill that was still pretty wimpy but an improvement over the last “incline” and did that 4 times too. Better than nothing, right? Um… sure.

And you know what all this driving around like a jackass got me? It got me home LATE. My Lovah leaves for work at 7:00 and I pulled in the driveway at 7:02–and there was My Lovah waiting on the porch!!! You know what waiting on the porch means? It means “you are in trouble!” without saying “you are in trouble!” So in my angry missive to the school district, I am going to explain that not only was I greatly inconvenienced by their desire to keep hooligan moms off the track in the pre-dawn hours but the lock-out caused marital discord. Of course, I will keep all communications with the school district less crazy than my emails to TD Bank because 1) TD Bank is just a bunch of thieving assholes and B) I have to live here and I would rather not be dubbed “the crazy in town” in less than a year’s time.

This is sort of what this morning looked like except My Lovah was wearing his favorite blue sweater, a messenger bag, and an even bigger grimace.

…You know what the greatest irony would be? If the gate on the very far side of the track was unlocked all along. I better hold off on that letter. Juuust in case.

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One Comment leave one →
  1. 10/30/2011 9:42 AM

    You are a bad ass mother runner.

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