In which I share some of my personal sportsological lore

. . . AFTER I tell a story.

Sometimes it's not the plot that makes a good story. Sometimes, it's who you're talking with when the story happens that makes the story. Yesterday, I had gotten out of class and I was late for work because they had scheduled me to work during my class. (I hate it when that happens!) I was just leaving the parking lot when my mom called me. Note: I WAS paying attention to traffic -- the problem was that the other drivers weren't paying attention to ME. Or rather, one driver in particular wasn't paying attention to me. She pulled out in front of me and when she saw me coming at her at 30 miles per hour, she stopped right in the middle of the road. I had visions of my car smashed to smithereens, one might say, and of my insurance costs skyrocketting and having to walk everywhere I needed to go because I couldn't afford to get another car. Meanwhile, my mom was still talking to me and I don't have any idea what she was talking about because the only thing my brain was letting me hear was "STOP!" And so I did. Miraculously, I managed to come to a complete stop less than 6 inches from the other car. Definitely, a "hand of God" moment . . . I didn't mention it to my mom. It's one of those things that you just don't tell your mom about . . . (Ok, so in some situations you would, but my mom would have freaked out and told me I had to move back home where it's safe.)

Did you know that Lance Armstrong's heartrate is only 35 BPM? That is insanely slow! I'm gettng there with sportsology, but I'm afraid I will always be athletically challenged.
~MK