...with the sounds of fartlek. Just like Julie Andrews in the opening sequence of "The Sound Of Music," I was careering up steep hills, singing with complete breath control, and in perfect pitch. The lederhosen chafed a wee bit, but experiencing the mountain grandeur of Prairie Village on a Sunday morning was more than worth it.
I climbed every mountain, and coasted down, having confidence in confidence alone. I waved to a lonely, yodeling goatherd. I solved a problem like Maria. And when the Nazis showed up to conscript me into the Prairie Village Navy, I put on a final burst of speed that carried me across the Alps, and into Overland Park. It all worked out in the end, as I finished my 6-mile fartathon in 46:35, or about 3 hours shorter than it took all those Von Trapps to get out of Salzburg.
Auf wiedersehn, goodnight.
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