Sweat And Death

Sweat is a fact of life. For a runner, it is an everyday fact of life. Until today, I have totally underestimated my sweat. My sweat has tremendous powers. The power to destroy. The power to tear me apart from the things I love. The power to take life. Yes, it's true.

For example, the life of my Ipod. Today, eight miles of sweat killed my Ipod. I explain:

I have had an Ipod nano. Not the fancy Uber-Mega Gigabite ones. I had a first generation cheap-o nano. And I loved it. It kept me going through countless workouts. It motivated me when the pure love of running could not. I never used an Ipod armband- and risk being placed in the same category as fifty year old men who wear headbands and knee high workout socks- nope, never. I thought I was so clever. Instead, I would put my Ipod in my sportsbra, held in place between my boobs (of course before I got pregnant it rested flat against my flat chest). There it always stayed, close to my heart.

Since I got pregnant and my boobs grew three sizes (kind of like the Grinch's heart in "How the Grinch Stole Christmas") my sportsbra has been kind of too small in the front and if I don't wear two of them the Ipod can slip out under the elastic band between my cleavage. Today, I forgot to wear my second sportsbra and my Ipod kept creeping out of its spot. So I slid it over under my armpit where there was no cleavage to set it free.

This worked great for seven miles. By mile eight, the music stopped. I pulled my Ipod out (attracting some strange looks from passerbys who thought I was groping myself) only to find that the Ipod was drenched in my sweat. My sweat seeped into the little screen which displayed nothing but a huge sweat puddle. I tried to resurrect it. I let it dry overnight, but it would not come back to life.

So that's the story of the death of my Ipod. I sure hope that economic incentive check comes soon, I need to go shopping for a new Ipod. I might just get one of those tiny shuffles. I only played my old Ipod on shuffle anyway. It's like listening to a radio station that only plays your very favorite songs, and without commercial interruption.

I have to figure something out quick though, otherwise during tomorrow's run, I'll have to pay attention to my aching body instead of concentrating on Beyonce, Chris Brown, Alicia Keys, Rihanna, Timbaland, Akon and Gwen Stefani.