My jalk/wog started off great. I was rockin' and rollin' around the National Mall. The sun was setting, the monuments were glowing and the moon was rising. I was feeling so good at one point that I started to run. As I ran, the wind whipped through my bopping bun as my feet hit the pavement to the steady rhythm of the Jay-Z playing in my iPod. At last, I was one with the nature, or as much nature as the district could proffer.
After mere moments (a whole five minutes) of this athletic bliss, the elation wore off and I succumbed to the full consequences of my delusion. My heart began pounding (in my ears), deep cool breaths turned into wheezing, and muscles I forgot existed began to cry out for mercy.
Just then, and the zenith of my athletic embarrassment, a Tour Mobile packed (just packed) with people slowed beside me. I couldn't stop running and risk being laughed at by tourists, but I also didn't want to pass out in front of them either. I decided to keep running, despite my body's warnings. As I pushed myself harder than I have in years, I looked over at the Tour Mobile as cameras were flashing, and noticed camcorders were rolling. Just then, their tour guide began to speak over the loud speaker and said, "Here we have...are you OK miss?"OK, so the tour guide didn't say that.
The guide said, "Here we have the Museum of National History, it's under construction." But he might as well have said, "Here we have Natasha, she's currently under construction." Because that's what it feels like, I'm under construction.
I made it, barely, to the corner where the crosswalk gratefully told me not to cross. There, I caught my breath and waited as the Tour Mobile whizzed by. As it passed, I realized that the judge, jury and executioner I feared wasn't on board the Tour Mobile - it was within.
DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.
