So my resolve to write at least three times a week has been...ahem...a little on the anemic side. That is, unless you count writing notes on peoples' papers that read along the general lines of "once more, with feeling...." Sadly, I am suffering from the same writing issues as the kids I teach; I am woefully tired of working on anything. And yet I shall muster up the strength to go on....
*cue the Rocky theme song*
But I am not here to write about the grammatical horrors I face on a daily basis. Oh no! I'm not here to tell you about the time I fended off over fifty comma splices and various misuses of the word "their", "there", and "they're" armed with just a purple-inked pen (I say "purple-inked" because in today's society, apparently grading with the red pen and proverbially "bleeding" all over papers is said to give our dear children anxiety--*eye roll*)!
I am here to tell you about the Warrior Dash. Yes, friends, I have been conned into participating in a Warrior Dash up in Conroe, Texas in March, and after allowing myself to get pep-talked into it by my friends and husband, I will be suiting up in my nastiest clothes I can possibly dredge out of the closet and ruining a pair of Nikes all in an insane attempt to be deemed fit to be called a "warrior."
Allow me to explain how stupid I am.
I have agreed to run a 3 mile obstacle course which is so challenging that almost every part is named after the devil, hell, or some cutesy reference to Texas. First, I will run through the "Texas Tornado". Sounds adorable, doesn't it? Next up? "Knee High Hell". Oh fabulous.
Get a load of these names: Hay Fever, Rio Run, Sand Trap, Hell's Hill, Satan's Slope, Cargo Climb, Muddy Mayhem, Deadweight Drifter, and my personal favorite--the "Warrior Roast", where we run (do NOT walk!) through fire. I'm particularly nervous about the fire part, having lived through a traumatic dormitory experience involving a candle and a hunk of my hair. I will forever remember the smell of my own singed eyebrows.
Nevertheless, I have agreed to try to prove myself worthy. The lure? Not the approval of my friends, as one might think. Though I am a prime candidate for peer pressure based on an inherent need to be included in almost everything. Not even for bragging rights--even though I will most definitely brag a bit if I can finish this thing. No no no.
I'm in for the fuzzy warrior helmet.
So come March, be looking for the picture of me in this little beauty.