Running on Empty
I write today … for tomorrow I may be dead. Yep, all my bragging that I’m running a 10K (which btw, turned into an 8K due to construction work)—well, the proof is in the pudding tomorrow. This afternoon, I picked up my freaking number and registration packet.
It wouldn’t be exaggerating to say that I’ve run twice since January 15th. One of those times was with my dear friend, Emily. You remember her right? That crazy insane person who thought this would be fun. She and I ran about three weeks ago and I thought I’d nearly die. True, I have bought this amazing running outfit and frankly, I looked rather good. It’s not too tight in the pants, but tight enough if you know what I mean. (Sorry straight guys, but having a great ass and package is still kinda important to us middle age gay guys.)
The problem was that it didn’t pass 35 degrees that morning. I learned that having a great ass doesn’t mean shit if the thing is frozen. We both pooped out after 3 miles so I was worried that 6 miles would be impossible. Perhaps if I could bail out at the last minute? I realized that it would most likely be freezing in mid-march so I’d pull a “cold-induced asthma” deal on her and skip the race.
No deal; it’s 75 degrees here in DC this weekend. I’m so f*cked, it is not even funny. Plus, I had to buy a pair of running shorts since I’ll overheat in the long pants.
Larry & I went to Sports Authority today and bought the running shorts. Weird thing was that the shorts weren’t like regular shorts; they have this hammock-like piece in it that’s supposed to hold the ‘boys’ up, I guess. When I tired the shorts on, my underwear got all bunched up in the hammock. (If this is too much information for you, then stop reading. It’s not like I’m forcing you.) I know that if I run with underwear, I’m going to get chafed so now I’m worried that I’ll have run Commando. People wouldn’t be looking at my butt then, that’s for sure.
Tomorrow, assuming you come out to root for me, look for #2229. Of course, that may not be the thing that will catch your eye first.
Emily is going to regret the day she ever asked me to run.
More tomorrow… if I make it.
It wouldn’t be exaggerating to say that I’ve run twice since January 15th. One of those times was with my dear friend, Emily. You remember her right? That crazy insane person who thought this would be fun. She and I ran about three weeks ago and I thought I’d nearly die. True, I have bought this amazing running outfit and frankly, I looked rather good. It’s not too tight in the pants, but tight enough if you know what I mean. (Sorry straight guys, but having a great ass and package is still kinda important to us middle age gay guys.)
The problem was that it didn’t pass 35 degrees that morning. I learned that having a great ass doesn’t mean shit if the thing is frozen. We both pooped out after 3 miles so I was worried that 6 miles would be impossible. Perhaps if I could bail out at the last minute? I realized that it would most likely be freezing in mid-march so I’d pull a “cold-induced asthma” deal on her and skip the race.
No deal; it’s 75 degrees here in DC this weekend. I’m so f*cked, it is not even funny. Plus, I had to buy a pair of running shorts since I’ll overheat in the long pants.
Larry & I went to Sports Authority today and bought the running shorts. Weird thing was that the shorts weren’t like regular shorts; they have this hammock-like piece in it that’s supposed to hold the ‘boys’ up, I guess. When I tired the shorts on, my underwear got all bunched up in the hammock. (If this is too much information for you, then stop reading. It’s not like I’m forcing you.) I know that if I run with underwear, I’m going to get chafed so now I’m worried that I’ll have run Commando. People wouldn’t be looking at my butt then, that’s for sure.
Tomorrow, assuming you come out to root for me, look for #2229. Of course, that may not be the thing that will catch your eye first.
Emily is going to regret the day she ever asked me to run.
More tomorrow… if I make it.
posted by Steve at
6:32:00 PM
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