The Last 5k I Will Ever Run*

Don't worry, I haven't forgotten you. There will be a new 50 Shades review up tomorrow. I simply didn't have time to read this weekend: - I was being chased by zombies, driving across middle America and practicing how to be a stripper.

I ran my second Run For Your Lives zombie chase/obstacle course/5k on Saturday in Indianapolis. It wasn't any better than the last one, despite the fact that I did actually train this time. In fact, I finished the highly touted Couch To 5k program and I can say with confidence that I could probably run a straightforward 5k without wanting to die (though I would still hate it. Pretty sure nothing is ever going to change the fact that I HATE running). Unfortunately, the skills required for running a 5k are worthless for this particular 5k. What little areas there were for open running without an obstacle or zombies seemed to almost always involve either running through water or running through sand, both of which blow and are a complete energy suck. The rest of the time, we were sprinting. The zombies in Indiana are way more aggressive than the zombies in Maryland - they run faster, chase further, and work together to chase down the people who still have flags left. At one point, we gathered a large group to try to overwhelm a massive field of zombies. We got to the end, crawled through some murky water under a bridge and were greeted on the other side with ANOTHER huge field of zombies.

The obstacles were harder than last time as well. We crawled army style through a field of gravel, from which my knees are now cut to shreds. I climbed up the cargo net fairly well, but my decision to try and slide down the opposite side was, in retrospect, a poor one. I had been extremely confident going in about the one obstacle we knew about, crossing monkey bars over a pool of blood and entrails, due to my trapeze classes. I shouldn't have been. There was one thing I hadn't accounted for: at trapeze class we have chalk. At a zombie race there is nothing, plus your hands are wet from climbing up there due to people who fell in before you, plus your clothing is entirely soaked from all the previous water obstacles so you can't dry your hands on those either. I got about a third of the way across before I realized it wasn't happening and let go, justifying that decision to myself that the blood pool would feel soothing on my cargo net rope burns anyway.

I when I finally crawled under the electrified fence (seriously) and crossed the finish line, I was ecstatic. Not just because it was over, but because it was over and I WAS STILL ALIVE! I had one flag left at the end of the race, thanks to the amazing H-Town who ran interference for me after she'd lost all of her flags, and also from a spin move I used to get away from a zombie who had me wrapped up.

Survivor. Yes, I do know my hair matches my shirt.

And that's it. I am never doing this again.*

After the race, I faced a five hour drive back to Chicago so I could be at rehearsal for my latest student burlesque show first thing Sunday morning. Just a quick word about driving across the state of Indiana, for those of you who haven't had the pleasure: It's fucking terrifying. If you're like me anyway. Because I do not blend in there AT ALL, and as the bartender just said to me "In Indiana, the motto is 'If it's different, shoot it.'" The first thing you see when you cross the border from Ohio into Indiana is a giant cross made out of aluminum siding. Jesus approves of weatherproofing your home. Immediately after that are two billboards, these two, in this order:

Hell = The Hotel California

Jesus = The Dude. He's had a rough night and he hates the fucking Eagles, man.

Sitting in my tiny rental car with absolutely no one looking at me, I have never felt more like I was being judged. Until I got out at a rest stop to recaffeinate, my turquoise hair shining like a neon sign flashing "MISCREANT" and "FORNICATOR", and had to have a very uncomfortable staring contest with the man behind the counter before being allowed to purchase a Coke Zero. I felt safer surrounded by zombies.

On Sunday I went to rehearsal for the Studio L'Amour Student Showcase, which is July 1st at Joe's on Weed if anyone is interested in attending. I do not have photos of this part of the weekend, though I do have this one of me in (part of) the outfit I'll be temporarily wearing:

Not pictured: waist cincher, hand fan, sense of propriety.

My hope is that by the next student show in December, I'll be dancing solo instead of in a group with 15 other girls, but I will be in the front row this time so I've got that going for me.

So that's what I was doing instead of reading more dubious "literature" all weekend, though there was a bit of H-Town reading it aloud that I wish I had video of. I do expect to finish it this week, and then I may be willing to entertain reading the next one for you, but only if you give me some time off to read something decent, do the actual work that I get paid for, and keep saying really nice things about how amusing you find my rage.

*Until H-Town asks me to do another one. I am weak.