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Confessions of a zombie in training: Warming up for undead 5K


June 05, 2013
Last I left you good citizens, I was in the midst of a zombie identity crisis. Now that my bloodstream has been officially transfused with the zombie-creating chemical C-894, I find that my conscience has melted away as I run throughout the city of Alpharetta, moaning at the top of my lungs in a quest for brains upon which to feast.

My identity crisis is no more as my training for the Zombie Run has taken shape. This coming Saturday, June 8, I shall participate in the Zombie Run 5K at the Atlanta Motor Speedway. At 10 a.m., my fellow zombies and I will be released upon some silly humans who will be run down and devoured among the wreckage and obstacles of the speedway.

I cannot sympathize for my future victims. I have little self-control remaining as it is, and the beating hearts of Alpharetta civilians ring tantalizingly loud in my ears (even louder than their screams) as I chase them through the city streets.

Training is surprisingly effortless for a zombie. I continue to build my now undead muscles and stretch my unfeeling legs into longer and longer sprints of aggression and pursuit. The lack of bodily sensation which has accompanied my transformation into zombie form only benefits my motivation; with no physical discomfort at exercise, I strain only for brains instead of a lungful of air.

My desire to overwhelm and consume humans has turned me into a predator of stealth. I find occasional bursts of speed to be helpful in my pursuit of citizens. After all, my undead moaning attracts too much attention and grants loud warning to my victims when I move too slowly. Dragging one foot behind me in typically dramatic zombie fashion is out.

After much wavering in the pursuit of my new zombie identity, I have discovered during my hunting and training that I am an opportunist among zombies. You may assume that all zombies file under that category (due to our lack of pickiness when it comes to chomping on brains) but my opportunism takes shape in that I refuse to be boxed into one given style of movement. I sprint and crawl as the hunting situation mandates; after all, some of you humans are easy to overcome, but others have realized that you are no longer the highest on the food chain and act accordingly when I sprint toward you with hunger in my deadened eyes.

As the citizens of Alpharetta unfortunately continue to elude me, my hunger for brains grows and my motivation increases. To all those participating as humans in the Zombie Run, beware. I now run faster and jump higher, and I'm coming to get you.

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