A while ago in this post, I described how I kicked Kate's butt on the running treadmill. A few people have since e-mailed me wondering if Kate exacted her revenge. All of these people, supposed fan's of my blog, were salivating at the prospect of me getting my comeuppance. You've all missed the point. I'm the underdog here. Kate always wins. Of course she got me back - it was so obvious and inevitable that I didn't even bother writing about it, but to set the record straight, here goes:
So two days after our initial run Kate gets on the treadmill, then refuses to tell me how fast she's gone. I tried telling her that I'd given up running - that I was retiring as the undisputed champ but she gave me one of those glares. So, that evening she watches me scarf down some baked goods and drink a tall glass of eggnog. As I down the last sip she says, "l'll watch the kids if you want to run". I had no choice so I went for a short run. Just to get her off my back. She ran so hard that she couldn't move the next day and hasn't felt healthy since, but she's the champ.
Then last weekend we entered the Snowflake 5 km run, here in town. Before the run Kate said we should just run together and that she wasn't feeling well so we should take it easy, and she was cold, and her nose was dripping, and she was tired, etc., etc. Wouldn't you know it, at the 3km mark she turns it on and leaves me in her dust. She finished in 6th place out of 40 plus women (alas only the top 5 got their names in our esteemed local paper), while I got outsprinted at the end by the 2nd ranked 12-year-old boy. So, Kate wins, obviously.
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