This post is dedicated to the victims of the Orlando nightclub massacre and pays homage to my LGBTQ+ readers whom I often neglect with insufficient stories of Ramon and the Park Ranger.
Apparently, the Voat FPH girl was right. I was still carrying way too much body fat. I even looked slim lying down at the beach, but not when I stood up.
‘What a gift the giftie gie us to, see ourselves as others see us. –Bobby Burns
I was all over the newly refurbished Asbury Park. 36,000 steps in two days. Walking is the key to exercise induced weight loss, IMHO.
The revival of this coastal town is striking. I stayed at the brand new ‘The Asbury’ hotel. It is nothing short of awesome. I was in one of the $50.00 quad hostel rooms. They had never been occupied, brand new. The staff is very attentive.
The pool is excellent. The hotel is right near the boardwalk. At night there is a common area with live music.
The hotel is not far from the NJFitness gym, which is excellent for serious physical culturists. Their scale showed me at 228. Yes, they had free weights and proper old school machines and a great staff. Shout out to Razzle Dazzle Cleaners as well.
I was alone for a while. I was joined around midnight by a pair of mysterious guests. It’s no secret that the gay community has resurrected Asbury Park from the ashes. The Asbury is gay-friendly for my gay readers. Everyone was reeling from the Orlando attacks. Security was high. People were nervous.
“Hello is anyone in here?”
Why was that voice familiar? I asked myself as I awoke from a cold sleep. It was none other than Ramone and the Park Ranger!
“It’s me! The Botendaddy! What are you characters doing here?” I called out from my bunk.
“Well, you posted the damn race information, you fu&$ing moron!” Said the Park Ranger, as he dragged in his luggage.
“Botendaddy, I didn’t want to point this out to you, but you are completely and totally naked. You’ve lost a million pounds! Your tan is awesome! You’re almost brown! I never knew you could tan! And your milky white buttocks are delicious!” Opined Ramone.
Obviously, when I got up to greet them, I forgot that I was utterly naked. I noticed that they too had disrobed almost immediately upon entering the chamber, a fact which I thought was odd, but might have been attributed to some traditional cultural quirk of which I was not aware.
“Yes, he does look great.” Added the Park Ranger, circling around me and sizing me up like a ravenous sexual hyena.
“You still need to lose about four inches off of your waist to achieve a near six-pack.” He said, while inappropriately squeezing my remaining belly fat from behind. It took me a minute to realize that the Park Ranger had been violating me in a most delectably fully penetrative manner throughout the entire conversation. How he slipped that one in I’ll never know.
“What are you doing?” I asked the Park Ranger incredulously. “Isn’t this an unusually intimate greeting? Shouldn’t we have discussed this heretofore unfamiliar practice in some manner?”
“Oh shut up Botendaddy. You are so full of it. I’m trying to help you here, you lousy ingrate. You also need to lose some sensual fat to eliminate your female banana breasts completely.” He noted while massaging my chest in a disturbingly erotic manner.
“This does seem a bit out of line, Park Ranger.”
“Oh thou protesteth too much. You know that I’m madly in love with you, so this is all more than appropriate. And from the very apparent looks of it, it is obvious that you are quite enjoying the whole enterprise. The good news is that you have no more FUPA.” He mentioned dreamily while undulating uncomfortably close behind me and massaging my pubic bone to detect any remaining FUPA.
After about fifteen minutes or more, he cried out loudly enough to be heard in adjacent rooms: “Oh my god yes! Finally! You’ve held out on me far too long. Now your bowels are filled with gallons of my DDF reproductive fluids. But despite your extra bloat, your ass is visually perfect, despite your nether portal feeling to me like that of a large woman who has given birth several times! Unfamiliar to you, really? And for god’s sake stay away from those icky, stinky girls of the writer’s workshop. Pearls before swine, they are such bitches.”
I couldn’t believe that I was still considered fat.
“But I’ve lost 56 pounds! I weigh 228! I’m in the BMI overweight range by 1.9 pounds! I’m no longer Obese.” I said, as the Park Ranger staggered off.
“Yes….” Said Ramone sympathetically, immediately taking over for the now spent Park Ranger who had gone to put away his luggage. “Please, just be quiet for a moment, this takes a second. By the way, your ass is utterly delectable, but Hello? BMI Overweight? You are still 29 pounds away from BMI ‘good’. You must complete what you started, as must I.”
Ramone was cupping both of my milky white cheeks and manipulating them in a manner which cannot be described to my readers, while grinding against me rhythmically with extreme, sloppy impalement.
“Sloppy, wet, used, stretched, dripping, delicious.” He was saying under his breath as he followed in the Park Ranger’s footsteps. “That’s like six inches off your waist. It would be perfect. And your delicious, pointy, purely female breasts would be replaced by pectorals, Dearest Botendaddy.”
I was unable to escape the vise grip on my hips that would certainly leave embarrassing inexplicable hand-shaped bruises the next day.
“I have been deluding myself. I picked this target weight of 223. It was the Army max weight for my height, was I even fat back then?” I said nonchalantly as Ramone continued his eviscerating expert work.
“That’s why your running is still so shitty, my red-hot, sexy Botendaddy. Your body fat is still too high. Your body’s efficiency is not there yet. Even at 228, you are fighting against yourself.” Moaned Ramon continuing his long-awaited onslaught.
I thought about what he said.
“Is this how you greet everyone? Is it some kind of ritual? It seems a little too personal.” I inquired.
“Shut up please, dear Botendaddy, I have more work to do and I must concentrate. It is obvious, as I look at you, that these pleasantries are neither unfamiliar nor unpleasant to you as belied by your physical reaction, may I say? What I am doing now, is really for your benefit and not mine. Maybe, the sad truth is that you need to weigh 199 in order to be cut and to run consistent eight-minute miles. I only tell you because of my unrequited (until now) 19th Century, lyrical romantic love for you.”
So, my work was cut out for me. A new beginning. I must lose another 29 pounds to eliminate visible fat.
“Ah the smell of it! You are now internally soaked in my equally DDF juices. You should have never made me wait so long. So you see what happens when you deny those close to you? We could not help ourselves. We were powerless to stop. It is entirely your doing. You have exhausted me! I must unpack. How dare you distract us with your wicked charms! Go clean yourself up for heavan’s sake, and stay away from those crazy, stinky girls of the writer’s workshop. They’ll ruin you. By the way, the enormity of your portal…”
What they said was correct. If you have visible body fat, you are overweight, you are over BMI, and you are over body fat and likely not healthy.
The rest of what transpired that evening is left to the readers imagination, but it left a bitter taste in my mouth about the whole experience.
The run started in the evening the next day.
The run was well-organized. It was all firemen and EMTs from the local departments.
The shirt was awesome. The water stations were the best I have ever seen.
It was very hot with a bright sun, almost 80 degrees but it felt hotter.
The course wound through quaint recently revived neighborhoods of old wooden homes and ended up on the boardwalk. The volunteers were very supportive.
I started at a full sprint, but the heat and the weakness of weight loss as well as having lifted weights that morning took their toll. A 9:45 first mile was followed by a 21:25 second mile.
The godless, shitty MapMyRun app ‘paused’ three times, once right before the first mile, then again before the second mile marker and a third time during the third mile. I may go back to a stopwatch.
I had to interpolate based on the timer at the two-mile mark. They actually had a timing clock at the two mile. I had to add 1:15 to mentally correct the app.
My third mile time was one of my best in years, and my finish was my fastest official 5k time since late 2008. I literally leaned hard forward to be able to sprint the endless last quarter mile along the spectacular Asbury Park Boardwalk. There was a woman just on my heels and I just didn’t want to get passed again at the finish line.
Ramone and the Park Ranger were long gone as they finished way ahead of me.
Dear readers, although I had the fluke 8:26 mile time last Saturday and the fluky 31:50 trail 5k time, I am still close to breaking the 33:00 official 5k time I promised you. So maybe, if I can lose a few more pounds I can have the long awaited breakthrough.
Peace be the Botendaddy