Here I come rolling down the dusty Shoal Creek trail like Granny Sue on my big-wheeled bicycle that looks it might be some type remedial training bike. Were the bicycle a motorcycle it would be one of those massive ones where the tubby riders wear headsets and are taking a break from their bookkeeping jobs to ride the Interstate. Instead of padded bicycle pants and a shinny zipped mesh shirt I sport a Mexican shirt snatched right off Matthew McConaughey’s bedroom floor. Topping my less than impressive look is the sissy pink dog leash I hold adorned with white leather flowers and dotted with garish rhinestones.

Like a turtle I creep down the trail with my panting barrel-chested dog who might, at any moment, slip into cardiac arrest. A former colleague jogs past me with his energetic dog who laps around Slowboe and me to splash in the creek and then jump back onto the trail and catch his master. In other words, in the athletic world, my dog and I can’t even make it as pretenders.

“Come on, girl. You can make it to Austin Java. Run for coffee!” This seems to put a kick in her step, and the dog ratchets her speed a notch. Just as we see the end of our measly stroll, a most interesting sight catches our eye. The stats:

Girl: Caucasian, approximately twenty-three years old, perhaps completed one semester of college.
Hair: long, honey-brown with well-done highlights, layered with no ponytail
Apparel: skin-tight sleeveless ivory workout shirt, black leggings, high-heeled wedge canvas shoes, Nicole Richie sunglasses.
Significant features: completely flat stomach, large bubble butt protruding more than necessary because of the shoes, scowling face

Man: Caucasian, mid-fifties, salary approximately $180k
Hair: combo of buzzed and bangs, silver like aluminum foil
Clothes: t-shirt from law firm picnic, gray athletic shorts that haven’t been sold in stores since 1992
Significant features: none

The girl stands over the man with her trampy shoe on his shoulder as he does one-armed push-ups. The scene of a dominatrix in action in a public place was so captivating that I had the nerve to stop and stare. I couldn’t see the girl’s eyes as her gold-stemmed sunglasses hid them, but it is certain they burned a hole through my sweaty cotton shirt. In fact, I think she even hissed at me. Needless to say, I pedaled on while silently hoping the man wouldn’t have a heart attack.