Let’s all roast the marathon girl!

Standard

Today, my coworkers had a lot of fun making up scenarios that could happen to me as I run the marathon. Some of the best ones:

* I get a helmet manufacturer to sponsor me on the race. I will need a very special helmet.

* I strap pillows of various sizes to my person. All over.

* I have a suit made of bubble wrap. Or, at least a thick headband, so when I faceplant, the bubble wrap will make impact first.

* Simple: I trip, and exit the world a la King Mufasa. So tragic. (But there will be no Simba to ‘blame it on.’ Damn.)

* A giant mutant eagle swoops in and carries me away. (This is my favorite! Thanks, R! I gotta give credit where credit is due.)

* A sea lion from the pier escapes, blobs its away across the city and manages to bite me and I get a weird sea-lion virus. Or rabies.

“Well, guys, I have to get going. It’s time for me to go crash that marathon I told you about, bite a few people… you know, the standard mayhem. Laters!”

* A mail truck careens out of control and I’m one of the unlucky ones in the path.

* They say I shouldn’t be alarmed by the team of doctors following my progress on the route, and pay no attention to those coolers of ice they’re carrying that say “Live Organs.” It’s not like any of my organs will *really* be salvageable after I bite it, let’s be realistic here.

* An old, senile war veteran runs up to me to offer me a cup of water. But it’s not so much a refreshing cup of water as it is an old unexploded grenade he’s been carrying since the 1940s. (OK…I made this one up.)

* In honor of my memory, my office will host a Memorial Fun Run Race for the Cure. Thanks, guys.

Oh, it’s all in good fun. I’m not upset at their lack of confidence in me! No, not at all. And I’m not saying that some Mafia goons I happen to know will show up at my coworkers’ homes and convince them to make a nice,¬†charitable donation to my fundraising page. Nope. Come on, I’m a nice girl. I roll with the punches.

I sure hope my coworkers can. Handle being punched, I mean.

No. I am joking. Of course! Shyeah. What do you take me for, some kind of a jerk?

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