The weather forecast last night was for rain, endless rain, for the next few days. When we were going to bed I told the spousal unit to set the alarm for 6, that I would head out and do some running.

"But it's going to rain," he protested. I airily pooh poohed the notion, pretending that a little rain would not stand in the way of Marn, Warrior Princess.

My cunning plan was to wake up, look out to see pouring rain, feign massive disappointment that I could not run, and snuggle back for more oh so desperately needed beauty sleep. I had it all worked out--I would project the aura of being a fitness goddess without, you know, doing anything that involved actual fitness.

You can well imagine my horror when the alarm went off and I looked out the window to see that although it was very overcast, it was not raining. I spent the fifteen minutes of my warm-up stretches fantasizing the endless ways I would torture that weather guy for this tawdry lack of weather accuracy.

I'm very cautious now as I head down the hill from my house to the main road because late last week I met a moose. This seems to be one of my rites of spring--head down the road, meet an enormous, cranky, horse-sized creature whose major defense mechanism is to charge and stomp anything it considers a threat. Fortunately, the moose was as startled as I was and took off sideways into the woods.

I so do not want to be remembered as The Woman Who Ended Her Life As Moose Toe Jam.

Yep, now as I head down the road I sing so that all the wildlife knows I'm coming and melts away long before I weave into sight. Actually, I'm guessing they're probably running off screaming, their little paws covering their ears, because I am completely and utterly tone deaf.

Tough nougies.

If they want to all gang together and beat up the moose for me, then I'm perfectly willing to stop the singing. Until then, it's every critter for itself.

My run itself was uneventful, except for all the sarcastic snails snarking at me to keep in the right lane so that those creatures who are actually capable of speed can use the passing lane. Fine. I've got it up to the point where I can "run" for five minutes, followed by two minutes of walking, doing the sequence for 45 minutes but speed of any sort eludes me.

I dream that one day ... one day I will make those little antennaed slimeballs eat their words.

Just don't look for it to be tomorrow.

This being a holiday weekend down in the States, my gym was packed. Mostly when I show up in the morning, it's the sloppy stretch pants/ancient tee shirt brigade. There's never more than four or five of us.

We run on the elliptical machine. Then we lift weights. Then we run on the elliptical machine again. We Have Our Ways.

Today we had Actual Spandex People. When I went into the stretch room to do my "No It's NOT Yoga It's STRETCHING Warm-up" there was An Actual Spandex Woman doing a step aerobics workout.

Spandex. Step Aerobics Workout. This is not sloppy stretch pants and ancient tee shirts. This is not running on the elliptical machine. This is not weight lifting.

It was madness, I tell you, utter madness. I still can't get over it. Don't these people know that We Have Our Ways? Huh? HUH?

All I can say is that these Spandex People And Their Newfangled Ways better all be gone by Wednesday.

Grumble, grumble, mutter, mutter.

--Marn

Mileage on the Marnometer: 277.93 miles (447.2 kilometers)
Goal for 2003: 500 miles - 804.5 kilometers