Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Last Will and Testament

Due to the unusually high number of life-threatening encounters with traffic during my five-mile run outside this evening, I have become aware of the apparent death warrant on my head. Thus, never one to be unprepared, I have penned my Last Will and Testament so that in the case of my untimely (and certainly gruesome) death, my grief-stricken family and friends will have precious momentos by which to remember me.

I, Angie of BloggerDom, being of (relatively) sound and disposing mind and memory, do hereby bequeath the following assets as listed:

To my Husband: my collection of retired running shoes. One whiff and I will be with him for eternity.

To my Youngest Daughter: my race medals-- to accompany her self-made "I'm the Best" sign on her bedroom door. She obviously could use the boost to her self-esteem.

To my Youngest Sister: my running skirts. Also a six-foot tall runner, I have every confidence she will carry on my tradition of sporty femininity.

To my 13-year old Daughter: my can of pepper spray. She'll need it soon when the boys start coming around.

To my Mother: my training logs, notes and pictures. An accomplished scrapbooker, I trust she'll create something super special.
To my Father: my re-freezeable ice packs. They'll come in handy once in awhile. (Word up, Dad... DON'T use the frozen bag of corn for dinner.)

To my Other Sister: my physical therapy bill. It'll go along really well with the bill for her knee injury.

To my Friends: my assorted running goods (first come, first served): take your pick from a rusty mp3 player (beware of the Spice Girls on it), a half-empty tube of SportSlick, two inspirational yellow "LiveStrong" rubber bracelets, a trusty sportswatch and heart rate monitor, a couple samples of BioFreeze, a half-eaten package of Sharkies, three strawberry-flavored-with-caffeine-added Gu gels, a gently-used Cho-pat and lots of old, sweaty running socks. Please, no arguing.

And finally, to my Goats: my old race bibs. If you're going to be the first goats in history to run a race, you may need a little help getting in. (Don't tell them I sent you.)

I love you all.
R.I.P. (Run In Peace)--


1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Dude, you forgot about me! What do I get? How 'bout your treadmill? Yeah, I'll take that.

The Jo