The Continuing Adventures of Becky at Audubon Park

Last time we caught up with Becky at Audubon Park, she was buying a stranger $4 worth of gas and being given the offer of life-long friendship (and more?) in return.  Let's see what our intrepid runner got up to today when she at last ventured back to her one-time daily running spot...

Becky, who has run three of the past four days and has just finished up her 24th mile in that time period, is feeling pretty fucking good about her general physical fitness as she plows ahead with this marathon training business.  Justin Bieber starts on her iPod and Becky thinks, 'hellz to the fuck yes, I'm going to cool down by walking another mile and rocking out to this shit.'

A quarter mile in, she is quite literally stopped in her tracks as she is waved down by a young woman standing in the middle of the path ahead of her.  Becky reluctantly removes her headphones.

"Will you jog with me?" asks the young woman.

Becky takes her in.  She's overweight, dressed for the mall rather than exercising, and looking Becky up and down like she's simultaneously not to be trusted and yet undoubtedly holds all the secrets to life's battles with weight issues.

"Sure!" says Becky.  Why not round up the half-week's mileage to 25?

And with that began one of the longest miles of Becky Heineke's life.

****

To begin with, this woman had no intention of jogging.  She ran all of ten feet and then stopped.  "I sure wore the wrong bra!" she said.  Followed by, "I sure wore the wrong pants!"  Followed by, "I sure wore the wrong clothes!"

"How old are you?" she asked me.  I told her.

"WHAT??!  Giiirrrrrrrrllllll!  WHAT?!!  Look at me!"

I looked at her.

"Giiirrrrrrrrllllll!  You look 24!  What the...but you're so cute!"  Because of the lack of continuity in that statement (29-year-olds can't be "cute"?) I wanted to tell her that it's not me that's cute, it's the Maybelline mascara and freckles I've never grown out of.  Instead, I thanked her for the compliment and dodged her various and specific questions about my thirtieth birthday party, which is months away and not something I've even contemplated at this juncture.

"Giiirrrrrrrrllllll!  I'm itching now!"  We stopped for a moment so she could frenetically scratch her legs.  "Where's my car at?  Have we gone a mile yet?  I'm so tired!"

"Where did you park?" I asked her.

"I don't know where my car is!" was the response.  Considering her level of exhaustion at the half-mile point, I assumed she must have parked somewhere in the vicinity.

"Is that your car up there?" I asked, pointing to a car near the three-quarter-mile mark.

"Yeah!" she said.

But it was not.

"What??!  That ain't my car!  Where did I park?"

We chatted a little about her job, my job, where we lived, about how much her legs were still itching...

"You go to Shoe Carnival?" she asked me, looking at my shoes.

"Breakaway," I told her.  I gave her my ablest sales pitch.  She looked skeptical at best.

"I bought some Asics at Shoe Carnival," she said.  "I'm wearing those tomorrow.  I'm going to go one mile today.  You going more than one?"

I told her I wasn't, neglecting to mention the four miles I had run before the one I was currently walking with her.

"I'm going to go two tomorrow and just keep working my way up."

Then she told me her diet.  Her carb intake.  The salad she had for lunch today.  We'd slowed to a snail's pace by the time we hit three quarters of a mile.  "What?!?  We haven't even gone a mile yet?!"

She wasn't the only one thinking it.  She pulled out her phone.

"Yeah, we're running up at this park.  You at the house?   What?  No!  I'm jogging right now!"  By the time the call was over, I had steered us to the parking lot where her car was, cutting off a tenth of a mile or so but congratulating her nonetheless on making it a full mile.  Of which she had "jogged" roughly three yards.

"This your park?" she asked me as we parted ways.

"Yeah, this is my park."

"Then, I'll see you!" she said.

And for the second time in as many visits, I made a vow to avoid the area for the immediate future.  Only me...