Brains!

As I run I often think of Zombies. Not of running away from them but how I have become one. It's all there, the dead and glazed eyes, the lifeless hands. the shuffling gait, the mumbling groans, and the slow Zombie speed. That's how I know I won't be outrunning anything, least of all the undead. Even my obsession with spaghetti is just like the Zombie's need for brains and the life they will never again have. (I curse you rice pasta and your weak substitute!)

Of course it can all be explained away by the fact that I am a runner. The eyes glazed over in focus and concentration, my hands relaxed and limp to keep myself from clenching them into fists and transferring that tension to my shoulders, or the math problems and motivation that should stay in your head but leak out in little half words and breathy exclamations. Of course the shuffling gait and the slow speed are all about my poor form but somehow when I try to pick up my feet, I end up as a goose-stepping Nazi.

So in the end as I let myself get wrapped up in the thought of my new found Zombie status in order to distract myself from that last mile I dread running, I think, "Even if I am undead, at least I'm not a Nazi." And that is something we can all feel proud of.