Tag Archives: zombies

I won’t be the first course when the zombies come

zombieI am not a runner.

I’ve said it for years. Sometimes I wouldn’t mind being a runner, occasionally it even looks like fun. But it involves one thing I really don’t like: running.

I love to walk – I could walk for miles. My regular walking route when the weather is nice is 2-3 miles, and sometimes I’ll push it to twice that without even really thinking about it. I love to ride my bike – not RAGBRAI-style riding, but taking a leisurely 5-, 10-mile ride. I like using the elliptical, stretching, Zumba – it’s not that I don’t like exercise.

I just don’t like running.

Lately, though, I’ve found myself on my walk and fighting the occasional urge to just … run. I quickly talk myself down from the ledge – I’ve never been a runner, not even when I played softball or basketball, and that was 25-30 years ago. I’ve got bad knees. I’m a former smoker. Walking is just fine.

But tonight …

Tonight I ran.

Don’t get excited, all you marathon runners out there. I ran – but it was only maybe an eighth of a mile. I was out walking with Mia and she had a bounce in her step because we’d just been wrestling in the apartment a few minutes before. Her pace picked up, then picked up some more, and suddenly I just ran.

It wasn’t far, and it wasn’t fast. But it was a run. I was a bit out of breath, but not horribly. Honestly, I probably could have gone a little farther. I imagine this is how the “Couch to 5K” program works. I felt good.

And I now know that in the event of a zombie apocalypse, I may not be the last person caught – but I also won’t be the first.

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My failure as a mother

Toilet_Paper_RollI’m afraid I’ve failed my son.

He has always held such promise: he was able to recite the alphabet at 18 months, wrote some of the letters (OK, just the linear I, H, E, F and T, capitals only) when he was two and a half, was reading before he entered kindergarten.

In elementary school he tested years beyond his age. He learned to ride a bicycle the day his father started to teach him, and was always a caring young man when it came to family.

As a teenager he wasn’t interested in driving until just this past summer, before his senior year. He’s taught himself to play guitar and keeps a watchful eye on his gas tank.

I’m so very proud of all of these accomplishments. He is truly a wonderful young man.

Still, I know in the years to come I will get a tearful telephone call from some as-yet-unidentified young woman, blaming me for the one thing I was not able to teach him to do.

He doesn’t know how to change the roll of toilet paper.

I’ve tried everything, even the simple little rods that sit in holders as opposed to the spring-loaded sticks most people use. When he was younger I tried to make a game of it, to see who could do it the fastest. Nothing worked.

There must be some internal switch I failed to activate. This is the same young man who can wipe out an entire army of aliens in any Halo game, survive zombie attacks while eating a sub sandwich or mow my entire yard in 45 minutes — a task that takes me almost two hours — and yet can’t seem to put a small roll of paper on the holder. At this point I wouldn’t even mind if he loaded it upside down, just so he loaded it.

I’m so sorry, nameless future daughter-in-law — I tried. I really did.

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