6k on the Busway Carnegie, PA: Third in Class!

This is another odd one.

I finished third in my class! A show! It gave extra points to Race Team 2000!

A Sunday morning. Usually I run on Saturdays, but my mid-week run was late this time.

The shirt is excellent.

They had 3x, but even though I’m thinner, the larger the shirt, the better.

They had refreshments, bananas, oranges.

It was well-organized.

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The signage

So, at any rate, I don’t have high hopes.

It is cold at race time around 39 degrees, believe it or not, with the wind blowing.

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Registration

I will have to record my precise clock start time in case the MapMyRun App ‘pauses’ again. It pauses for many reasons:

1. Your finger accidentally hits the pause button – not.

2. You accidentally hit a button on your phone case – not.

3. You drip sweat on the pause button while running – yes, this has happened.

4. You put the phone down to tie your shoes and the app decides for you… that you have stopped running, so it pauses – apparently yes.

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The course

At any rate, ‘Race Team 2000!’ was ready to go. They were almost all there: The Stalker, The CEO, The Punker-Model-Writer chick, The Librarian, Ramon.

But The Park Ranger was gone, transferred to the Poconos, he was a throw-in, undeveloped character anyway.

Of course, crazy anime-furry-cosplay-SCA Japanese psycho-nerd girl Hiroyuki was there dressed in pigtails trying to motivate us, but just annoying everyone.

A very attractive 30-something woman in a very expensive jogging suit with a flower logo, and top of the line shoes, a woman of whom I’ve never seen before, came up to me and began pointing her finger in my face and stomping on my toes.

‘Oh, the so-called Botendaddy, with your pathetic entourage of three-time losers! No-one else would even associate with you. No-one cares about your stupid bloggy thing. No-one is interested in your phony sex-capades. No-one cares about your so-called ‘incident’. No-one listens to your mindless advice. No-one is interested in your opinion about anything. No-one thinks you are smart or interesting, you old, fat, deformed, mis-shapen, freak.’

The librarian stood up as did the CEO and the stalker.

The punk-model writer stood right behind the woman.

‘Oh, you think we’re the fuc&^%g Manson girls? Who the f&^k are you? No-one cares about this, no-one cares about that.’ She said in a mocking sing-song voice. ‘Bugger off you stupid twat.’

The librarian leaned into the woman’s face, pressing her mouth against the woman’s cheek, ala Tommy Lee Jones in ‘The Fugitive’© and she whispered to her: ‘The only thing no-one cares about here is you and your fouled up opinions.’

The rude, ignorant woman, tried to walk away, but the CEO stuck out her leg and tripped her, and the evil woman bumped right into the stalker.

‘Three time loser, huh?  Now if I was you, I would be departing, post-haste, so I don’t get monkey-stomped.’ Said the stalker in low estrogen-soaked woman-rival psychotic tones.

Hiroyuki shouted, pointing at the woman as she walked away in disgrace.

‘Ah, she is a demon-girl from Sugar-Puff-Flower Race Team X! Our evil competition! We are ‘Race Team 2000!’ Said Hiroyuki. ‘We are truly a cult of the Botendaddy! No-one insults him, but us… his shitty entourage!’

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Hiroyuki in her traditional Japanese garb of Naoshima Prefecture.

My times: 6k: 42:00, 5k split 34:20 fastest since 2009, Three mile split 33:11. The 33:00 5k still eludes me. I’ll tell you why: it’s the body-fat and weight. Still way too high to run effectively. My 10:12 mile split was 1:24 slower than my first mile in St. Clairsville. Not helpful. I estimate that I will need a 10:30 pace over three miles to have a prayer at running a 33:00. That necessitates a 8:30 first mile.

It’s very possible that at the same exact weight where I used to run a 9:00 mile comfortably, I am higher body-fat than I was eight years younger.

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A bold runner crosses the finish line

I started very fast, my first duel was with a guy and his son. They finished about 30 seconds ahead of me. Then, a young guy, maybe about 210 lbs. I was able to wear him out by the 3k mark. I dueled with a couple of women who eventually ran past me around the 3.25 mile mark and finally two old dudes (maybe 200 lbs. each – see the problem? At 245, I will never beat any of these folks. I need to drop my 16# = one stone, get down from BMI ‘obese’ to ‘overweight’ and then, at the magical 229# mark, leg it out).

Everyone in ‘Race Team 2000’ finished well ahead of me. No one finished slower than 32:00 for the 6k. Only Hiroyuki waited for me. She was doing a hibachi cookout out of the back of what looked an awfully lot like the ‘Mystery Van’™ from ‘Scooby Doo®’.

‘So ghost-face-devil! You finish super slow! You dishonor team! In olden days of Rising Sun! Ah yes… western Devil! You would commit the Hara-Kiri! Come we eat, then to make up for your finishing so slow, you will make love to me in sloppy American-Botendady style, ugly, fat, demon-body, Kabuki-dance-reticle, sweating and drooling over fresh, clean, nubile Japanese woman like Godzilla GI conqueror Devil! You subjugate and dominate defenseless Japanese woman! You leave her sticky and ashamed and del.icio.us.ly dishonored! Ah the smell of it!’

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Chartiers Creek

We ate for a while. Then she packed up the hibachi. The inside of her conversion van looked like a 1952-era Japanese Geisha House, but with creepy anime everywhere and horrible idiotic Japanese cartoon music.

‘You become naked, demon!’ She said, already having stripped entirely.

‘Yankee Ranger Rakkasan! You touched those other stupid, smelly, rotting fish-stink American demon-tw@ts! You already f$&ked other dirty girls of ‘Race Team 2000!’ with your massiveness! You take me now! Mr. Botendaddy-San!’

‘But I was third in class, you stupid Yoko!’

‘Third in class, demon? THERE WERE ONLY THREE IN YOUR AGE GROUP YOU FAT SLOB!’

‘Hey, you just dropped your fake Japanese Accent!’

I couldn’t tell if she was trying to invoke my sh!tl@rd, macho, imperialist, running-dog, jingoistic, sexist, oppressive, capitalist, Alpha-male, muscular racism, or if she really talked like that in real life.

‘OK, man, you caught me, whatever, I’m a 24 year old Philosophy grad student from Surrey, near Vancouver, B.C. My parents were born in Japan, so sue me, you fat slob, just fu@& me harder and better than you did those other stupid Cun7$! I get super h@rn¥ after I run.’

I felt it important not to disappoint her, so I disrobed, exposing my foul, evil, rotting, macabre, undead corpse and I slobbered and drooled towards her like a hideous Indiana County black-and-white local genre movie Mall Zombie.

“Oh Botendaddy. OH BOTENDADDY!”

{CENSORED! PA DEPT OF AGRICULTURE FOR EXTREME WWII-ERA ANTI-JAPANESE RACISM AND VILE PRURIENT CONENT, PER CURIAM, ORDER COURT OF QUARTER SESSIONS, SITTING AT BUTLER 14 AUGUST 1959, PER PA CODE REG. 600-9(a)-2}

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About Botendaddy

Three times voted extreme sexiest man alive...by acclamation. I run because I must...I must!
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