To put it lightly, I am VERY competitive. One of those vice/virtue personality traits--a great strength and a great weakness. So my story goes like this, when I exercise I usually go for a run and on rainy, cold, or dark days, I go run at the gym. Not on one of those treadmills, but on one of those tracks. You know the ones that you have to do like ten laps to equal one mile--the kind you get dizzy on? Well, my noble downfall almost always rears its valiant head when I run on the indoor track, because, you see, I am constantly calculating how to pass the person in front of me or how much I need to speed up so that no one passes me from behind. Some nights I think I am going to kill over just trying to beat the fellow joggers on the track (mind you, they have no clue that I am racing them). Not all that long ago, on a very memorable run at the indoor track, I found myself shoulder to shoulder with many dedicated health fanatics. I was determined to be the fastest. Unfortunately, a skinny, quick-footed young man tore past me leaving me eating his dust. As soon as I shook off the dazed look of shock on my face, the clouds of dust parted and one hundred yards in front me I eyeballed an elegant, fit and trim blond gracefully gliding around the track as though Swan Lake was the exercise theme of the night. No way was I going to let HER beat me. I powered up, zeroed in on my opponent, then I zipped down the track and flew by Little Thang. Feeling rather accomplished I finished my run in a full sprint with extra ego to spare. Casually, I strutted into the machine room to stretch. Lo and behold, Miss Pris, that little thang, was upside-down, against the wall, doing hand-stand push-ups! NO JOKE! I bit my bottom lip considering whether I should break my neck trying to keep up with HER, then I ungracefully I bowed out.
Hats off to Little Thang! She can keep her upside-down, hand-stand push-ups to herself!
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