I create opportunities for the public to point and laugh — at me.
So… I’m running. I’m feeling good about the tempo… I’m feeling good about my pace. I am closing in on the final half-mile of a 5-mile-run. The wind is blowing through my hair and “Eye of the Tiger” just started playing on my Shuffle…
I am ready to finish strong. The air is crisp and there is a bee the size of a jaw breaker coming right at my face.
I hop to the left. I hop to the right, but he is so quick. Fly like a butterfly, sting like a bee… Only, I do not move like a seasoned boxer smoothly dodging the advances of his opponent - rather, I hop like a little girl who is trying to do the Mexican hat dance barefoot while the hat is on fire.
ADDITIONALLY (as if my special dance wasn’t enough), I flail with my hands at armpit level… T. Rex, anyone???
FURTHERMORE… my lips were dry, as were my brace-covered teeth…. and the sheer terror of certain death caused my upper lip to stick right above my braces… This physical trait really brought out my resemblance to my distance cousin, Fire Marshall Bill.
Blogged with Flock
I’ll never be cool.








Recent Comments