The (not so) Frigid Fiver

Today Dr. Bombay and I thought it would be fun to do a little something called the Frigid Fiver, a five-mile race through Newburyport. Given that it is February in Massachusetts, this race could have lived up to its name and we really could have frozen our asses off. Luckily, the temperatures were in the 40s, which was not very frigid at all.

Unfortunately, I've had a cold for the last couple of days, so in order to actually do this run, I resorted to drugs. (Ooh, it's the Frigid Fiver doping scandal!) I must say that pseudoephedrine is a miracle drug. It makes it so I can breathe no matter how sick I am. It also puts me in a dry-mouthed dissociated fog and for some reason makes my lips turn bluish. I suppose this really isn't what one might desire for a race, but being able to breathe seemed like a top priority.

I managed to breathe throughout the whole race, though really loud and hard, which I think contributed to a major stomach cramp. I think I must have sounded like I was on the verge of an asthma attack. (Notice that I'm alone in that picture. I scared people away.) In spite of my infirmity, I managed to run faster than I was expecting under the circumstances (7:34 miles). The problem is that the cold air on my scratchy throat has made me lose my voice and now I am barely able to speak. I feel like I should take advantage of this temporary impairment and use my scary voice to my advantage, by, say, cackling at small children or impersonating Little Richard.

But I won't.