Liz Marsh pens "Under the Influence" for the Colorado Daily every other Tuesday for the Colorado Daily. Her take on family, fitness, illness, biking for tacos — or that one time "Fat Vladimir Putin" wreaked havoc on her foot bone in a treadmill accident — will make you contemplate, bust into a productive sprint or shotgun beer at happy hour. All good things.

She's the athlete I strive to be. And here's why...

After a solid workout, what is the first thing you do?

Eat. I prefer to carb-load before AND after a workout. Pasta, bread, cake, beer, it's how I pat myself on the back for a job well done. It might even be accurate to say that I exercise for the sole purpose of being able to eat more.

This is Liz Marsh getting her wine on — donning a pretty sweet apron.
This is Liz Marsh getting her wine on — donning a pretty sweet apron. (Courtesy photo)

If the zombie apocalypse hit, what three things would you take and run with?

I guess I'd have to carry my 50-pound dog. Her actual name is The Puppy, not because she is a puppy, but because she is simple like one.

"But, Liz, couldn't The Puppy run alongside you?" you ask.

No. The Puppy has no sense of stranger danger. She would walk right up to a zombie and lick his flesh-eating face, and then he'd eat her. Zombies crave human flesh but it's a well-known fact that they snack on stupid animals. I'd also grab beer and whiskey. My friends have long been planning a zombie safe house in the mountains, but since I have no skills to speak of I would need to bring a liquid offering.

Tell us an awesome childhood memory.


Our neighborhood gang of girls used to play a lot of "Little House on the Prairie." We would put on prairie dresses and go on adventures. One day the storyline, which I wrote each day, called for someone to be stuck in a well. Naturally we chose the littlest sisters, tragedy almost always struck their characters. We filled trash cans with water and made them stand in them all day while we "searched" for them.

If you were rich and never had to work again, where would you live?

On a private jet. A mobile home of the skies. Then I could live wherever I fancy at any given time. I'm thinking winters in Barbados.

If you had to wear Donald Trump's toupee or Nicki Minaj's fake booty, which one would you choose?

The good Lord already blessed me with a booty that just won't quit. I'm not keen on the Donald's toupee though. Can I make the dog wear it instead? Her hair color is already very close to his, as are her debate skills.

Tell us your life motto via song lyric.

I can't decide between "everybody wang chung tonight" and "it's all over now, Baby Blue." I feel like I should discuss this with my therapist.

What do you and your doggie typically talk about?

Usually it's pretty mundane, "should we walk past the hot guy's house carrying the bag of poop or sneak down the alley like a goddamn creeper and hope he's not in his backyard?" Ever since my injury the conversation has taken a serious turn, plagued by regret, "Why didn't I teach you to fetch me a beer like we talked about?"

Who is your fictional hero? What about a real-life hero?

One answer, Pippi Longstocking. Done. Tom Brady's balls are soft and real heroes are too hard to come by.

If you were an animal in a zoo, which one would you be?

I have the utmost respect for the sloth. He gets all the snacks with minimal effort.

Which fictional character would you love to drink with? And what would the beverage of choice be?

Go ahead and crucify me on your literary altar, I hate "The Great Gatsby." However I like having opulent friends, so I think Old Sport and I would enjoy a Sidecar or Gin Rickey. Poolside, of course.

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