I race by myself

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welbilt

When I walk, I don’t just walk…I walk with gusto.  I don’t know what it is in my little body, but I have a hard time strolling.  I know I would see more if I slowed down a little, but I simply have a hard time doing so.  Emily did a fantastic job sprinting to work with me when she lived around the corner…although in hindsight I feel bad that I put her through the speed walking scenario.  We probably looked ridiculous walking so fast through the streets of Berkeley. 

One thing I do enjoy about my fast paced jaunts: racing others when they have no idea we are racing.  The race begins as crowds collect on a corner and we all wait for the walking man to appear (aka the gun starting our race).  The first to the other side is the winner.  Normally, I win because everyone else is strolling, but sometimes I am lucky enough to find some good competition.  I clearly remember one particular race event:  I was walking home and a semi-old man was on a creaky bike next to me, slowly making his way up the hill.  It was perfectly quiet outside except for his creaky bike and my brain saying, “Go Assi! Go Assi!” Unfortunately, once the hill leveled off, he was able to accelerate more than my big little feet could go so he ended up winning the race to the end of the block.   I sometimes race with my bike, but it normally is me against the cars next to me when we are stopped at a stop sign (again, the first to get to the other side of the street wins).  These are particularly good challenges and I don’t always win. I prefer race against other bikers…most Berkeley-ites have stronger faster bikes than mine, so I prefer to go at my own pace.  

Go Assi, Go Assi!

Author: Ali Carras

At a very young age I lost site of my mom in a local grocery store in Boulder, Colorado. I did, however, have the smarts to go to the customer service counter. The kind woman at the counter asked "What is your name little girl?" My reply: "Assi." The woman gave me a look like, "Are you playing with me you little devil?" but she proceeded to blast on the loudspeaker the "We have a lost Assi at the front of the store." Customers throughout the store gagged and giggled, but my mom knew exactly who the woman was referring to: the mullet haired little girl with a tongue too big for her mouth, wearing a leotard, skirt, tights, and jelly shoes (with florescent green laces in them...even though they didn't need the laces). A shy little character for whom every little detail in life was a huge thing. I am pleased to report that today I am able to fully pronounce Allison (aka Ali), but the Assi pseudonym has always stuck, evolving into Aszi. As for the shy little character for whom every little detail in life was a huge thing? Some things never change. I have closed my comments due to mass amounts of spam that no filter could ever control. Feel free to contact me abeckord [at] gmail.com!

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