I need to revert back to wearing my sneakers every morning. Forget fashion! Because of them, I was able to make a mad dash to catch the train when I heard it pulling in as I exited the car.  I made it on the train without my VO2max humiliating me like it did yesterday – no heavy panting nor smoke.

The commute was okay except for the annoying dude standing over me.  He could not decide where to put his hands, so he kept moving them way too much.  I thought he was going to elbow me at some point.  But, I stopped being mad at him when he served as a great lead in the race no one ever knows is happening…except me.  I stood slightly behind him as we lined up at the doors as the train approached our destination.  I had to respect him for the angling he used to prevent me from taking the lead spot.  I waited anxiously for the doors to open, feeling the excitement of a horse competing at the Kentucky Derby waiting for them to open the gate.  At least, I hope that’s what they feel.    When the doors finally opened, I heard , “And they’re off!!!”  I wonder if I’m the only one who hears that?  I think my lead man did (yeah, we are teammates now – us vs. the other train doors) because he took off with a nice speed and make the sharp turn to the stairs.  I was close behind as he trotted down the stairs with impressive speed.  There are three lanes of stairs separated by handrails that serve as racing lanes…at least for me.  I suppose at least one lane should be reserved for commuters coming up the stairs.  But, unlike the DMV, ATL does not seem to believe in those courtesies – just like they don’t stand to the right on escalators to allow others to pass! Grrrrrr

Back to the race…I kept a close eye on the other two lanes while my partner (besties now) dusted them through the turnstile.  This is where we parted.  I don’t know which way he went because I was now focused on beating everyone to the narrow doorway that leads to the stairs for the shuttle.  I set picks for myself (now that I was on my own) on folks trying to bogart their way through the narrow doors and kept the pace of my former bestie.  My tenacity and speed enabled me to be first on the shuttle, so I was afforded choice seating instead of having to settle for the row with the humps. When the others finally caught up to the winner (lil ole me), they packed the shuttle until the driver had to turn the folks at the back of the pack away.  I felt a sense of victory and shame at the same time.  But, more victory than shame.  Now, I have about 7 hours to prepare for my next race.  I’ll need it because the commute home is all inclines and walking up stairs.  Someone please have the paramedics on standby…

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