Day Four: Two miles, three cakes and a coed on speed.

Day Four Ran 2 miles, Total 10 miles Miles to Go 990!

So I ran two miles Thursday making my total ten which is 1/100th of the pie (or chocolate mousse cake....if you don't know what I am talking about....read the blog for Day Three :) ) This time I decided to run on the treadmill. It was going to be a busy day at the office and I wanted efficiency. I like treadmill running. You are able to see your pace and adjust. You also get the boost of seeing all those calories burning. I did not have head phones so I could not hear the television on the big screen several feet in front of me, but I wasn't paying attention anyway. Used another technique, my directed meditation, to get be through the run. I will write about it in a future blog.

I also started thinking of the other "cake" stories in my life. I remember when I was only 6 or 7 my sister,Joyce, had a friend, Dorothy, who had made a cake for Joyce. I don't remember the occasion or where my parents were, but if I had to guess, it was by sister's birthday and my parents were away on a trip my dad won to Mexico City for selling a lot a insurance. In any event, Dorothy was babysitting me and my older brother, Cameron. He is two years older and we fought likes cats and dogs when we were little.

I had seen the cake, and like my son, Eric in yesterday's frozen Chocolate Mousse Cake story, I had asked Dorothy if I could have a piece. She said we had to wait until Joyce came home from work. Patience never being one of my virtues, I crafted a scheme that would allow Cameron and I to get a piece of cake. The idea was to stage a fight and when Dorothy separated us, I would run into the kitchen and cut us two pieces of cake while she was occupied with the older brother, telling him he should know better, etc. We had fought before when she babysat and the only way she could separate us was to tickle Cameron so he would let go and I could run.

Cameron was a willing participant in the cake caper. Things progressed perfectly as planned. We staged the fight. Dorothy came running when she heard my banshee yells. She tickled Cameron. When he let go of me, I ran to the kitchen and cut two pieces or cake. It was about a half and hour later, after Cameron and I had devoured the cake, that Dorothy realized what had happened. She sat on the floor of the kitchen and started crying. I wish I could say I was sorry. Problem is, I do not remember if I was. But I do remember how good that cake tasted.

My daughter, Leigh, almost had a disaster with a cake once. She had gotten proficient at making cheese cakes. We were visiting my dad and step mother, Paula. Leigh offered to make her cheese cake. Just before she put it in the over she asked Paual to taste it. Expecting rave reviews of the batter, she was surprised to see Paula scrunch up her face. In a sweet voice, Paula remarked, did you put any sugar in this cake? Leigh had forgotten the sugar...but fortunately her desired for affirmation saved the day and with the sugar added, the cake was wonderful. Much better, I am sure than the cake my sister made once where she mistakenly put in salt instead of sugar....disaster!

The most dramatic failed cake story that I remembered on this run involved a strawberry cake my mother made. Mother was a wonderful cook, most of the time. She liked to make things from scratch. She rarely deviated from her old standards. One night, for some reason, she decided to cook a strawberry cake. This was a first as far as I remember.

We always ate family style with platters of food passed around. Mom would always put everything on the table, including dessert. Mom also did not take criticism well....in fact, she did not accept criticism at all. So when she brought the cake to the table and we saw the runny mess of icing that looked like runny pepto bismal with floating bits of butter, no one said a word. But we did not have to....I am sure our eyes said it all.

Mom looked at us and then at the cake and then at us again. Without saying a word, she grabbed the cake, went into the bathroom and started flushing it by handfuls down the toilet. She kept her wits about her...I guess, realizing she might stop up the toilet if she put it all down at once. So after several flushes, she returned, sat down and we ate. No one ever said a word about that cake....Aren't families bizarre? I know mine was.

By the time I had meditated and remembered all these cake tales, my two miles was up. I was content as I headed to the locker room. It was at the water fountain that I saw two very attractive coeds. The first said to the second "So I finished it in only 20 minutes." I love people with expressive faces. (Although it was our faces that upset mom in the strawberry cake fiasco and that got me slapped more than once by her when she said I had "that look" on my face and I had not wiped it off fast enough) The second coed's face was priceless. In one look without saying a word, she communicated...."Are you serious? Are you kidding me? Are you pulling my leg? I don't believe you? How could you finish so quickly?"

In response to the look, the first cooed said..."oh I had taken two Adderall...I was flying." I wondered if she had a pilot's license (or at least a prescription) for the drug. I also wished I could see what she produced in her 20 minutes. Oh, and the second coed's face now registered "Ok, now I understand how you did it." I suspect the second coed probably had some Adderall in her bag, just in case......"

So ended Day Four, Good news, bad news, who is to say!