Monday, January 24, 2011

Locked in with Leslie

Alternate title: Snowed in with my refrigerator. Seriously, enough with the wintery weather already! On December 23rd, the family piled into our aging van and headed to Virginia for the Christmas holiday. We'd been anticipating the trip for some time, and since Wade and I spent the whole week prior to departure nursing sick children, we both just felt thankful to be leaving according to schedule.

While I was looking forward to getting out of town and enjoying a change of pace, I had a plan in place to ensure that my training would stay on track. True to those plans, I dutifully set out on the afternoon of the 24th and walked 5.5 miles. It was COLD, but not to cold for Nordic-track woman. My pace kept me toasty, and I had great optimism that I could get a vacation in, and my mileage too. Enter blizzard.

Shortly after the wrapping paper had settled on Christmas day, the flakes began to fall. All the next day, the snow fell with a fury. When we ventured out with the children to “play,” I couldn't see the end of the street 0.3 miles away. The next day, the sky was a clear, icy blue; but the sun couldn't beat off the freezing temperatures, and we were hemmed in by 13 inches of snow. We didn't leave the house for three days, and the roads still weren't great when we headed home on New Year's Day. That first walk was the only walk I got all week.

Upon returning to South Carolina, despite being unable to walk, I felt very refreshed and ready to get back on track. I walked four days that first week back and also did a day of cross-training. I planned to carry the New Year's good start into the next week. Monday brought eight more inches of snow and a week of impossible cold. Thursday, we finally saw Walmart. My sanity was slipping. I had done 17 miles of in-home walking with Leslie.

So do you know Leslie? I'm talking about Leslie Sansone—the brilliant creator of the in-home walking system. She is great . . . in measured doses. And then that laugh starts to get to you. And you start to imagine that her fellow walkers look annoyed at her comments. And you start to feel that her jokes should have been written out of the script. And you start to feel that LESLIE should have been written out of the script. And you start to imagine reaching into the TV screen with your bare hands and . . .

Well, you understand. I know you understand if you know Leslie. Then there's that other personality—the very charismatic personality with the swinging door and the inside light. The personality full of food that, if you just tossed it into the microwave and heated it, would perhaps make you feel less cold every time you looked out the window and saw all that blasted white stuff. I honestly don't know how people live up north without getting fat. I think I would eat all winter long, just to stay warm, like a bear getting ready to hibernate!

Fortuitously, the snow has melted and absolutely none is in the current 10 day forecast. I am hopeful that we are done seeing the white stuff fly, because I've only got four weeks left until my Myrtle Beach half, and I don't want another week of Leslie's walking asylum. I'm also in the throes of my final fund-raisers, so I really don't need life to be any more complicated than it absolutely has to be. REALLY, this whole marathon and raise-funds-for-a-good-cause-experience, has been positive overall; BUT, the next time I act interested in such an (ad)venture, would my friends kindly beat me up! Or at the very least, chain me to the television with Leslie until I come to my senses . . .

1 comment:

  1. Reminds me of my little Wii Trainer... annoying little voice that tells me I am...that's none of your business! :-)