Today's entry is challenging to write on many levels but it's time to come clean. For the past month, I've been keeping a secret from all of you. A very big secret. But the guilt has been steadily gnawing away at me and, for better or worse, whatever you may think of me, I'm ready to share.
Ready? Here it is.
Start of yesterday's marathon relayLook--there on the Country Park lap. It's a bird... it's a plane... No, wait. It's...it's.... HOT FAST WOMEN!
Who cares that I can't complete a spin class without thinking thoughts of suicide? Fellow Sole Sister Cindy Kearns Barbour and I rocked yesterday's Valentine's Day Marathon.
My point? I AM NOT A WIMP. So will someone please explain to me why I'm incapable of mastering the art sport torture that is spin class??
I attended my fourth spin class this morning with my friend Marty. I dressed cute (don't laugh - it helps) and had the clip shoes BF Trisha had sent me so I was all "in the zone" and professional about the bike. Started pedaling and within 3 minutes was eyeing the clock, counting down the minutes until it was over.
Blair came downstairs a few minutes ago after having been up in his office talking to my mom on the phone about an issue with her furnace. (The issue being that it's decided to stop working.)
"Your mom's going to come by tomorrow," he said.
"Okay," I answered, then asked jokingly, "So, were you guys talking about me?"
"No."
"Well, why not?"
"You're like Voldemort," said Blair. "We try not to say your name aloud, lest we summon it."
Anyone else deal with this sort of thing in their marriages? Anyone...??
Cheers,
Dena
Author. Humorist. Fitness fanatic. Control freak (working on it). Mentor. Klutz. All-around decent human being.
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