Dieting and Running: What if There is no End Game?

I went out for my daily walk.

I ran yesterday.

I need to rest for the 10k at Settlers Ridge. I’m not sure that I have the ‘juice’.

Its been seven years since I ran a 10k race.

I liked the peace and solitude out here.

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I am a lineman for the County

I thought I was alone, but no luck. It was the Librarian. She walked alongside me, agitated looking straight ahead into the wall of humidity that gripped the country lane’s lush vegetation.

“So, getting ready for the 10k trail run? Also, I heard you hit your weight goal. Lost the 61 pounds. Now what, O’ delectable piece of aged man-flesh?” She said quietly.

I thought about it for a minute.

“There is no end game. Just more goals. I need to be normal BMI: my new target is 196.5 pounds. 24.9 BMI. My 5k target is 33:00 for now then 30 then 27.” I offered.

We kept walking. She was quiet but she looked determined to tell me something.

“My life is essentially ruined. My existence is meaningless dog-shit. Would any woman with any semblance of self-respect and any sense of real purpose be associating with a useless, stupid, inept rotting bum like you? Don’t answer. The answer is no. Hell no. You are the end of the line. The last stop. I have lost all self-respect and all sense of self-worth. Look at me! Hard-bodied, natural blonde-NATURAL, beautiful, I’m an absolute knockout. I could have been a model or a movie star. I could have had any man. Now it’s too late. The best ones are married and I’m left with the shitty dog-crap scraped from the bacteria-stoked slime from the bottom of the barrel-YOU. Now let’s look at you. OMFG, to quote the Predator Monster™: What in the Hell AAAARE you?” She barked.

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The tiny sidewalk

We strolled on. She now had grabbed my arm and was almost leaning on me.

“So you agree?” I countered, ignoring her psychotic rant. “It’s about long term health, right? As long as I’m technically overweight, no matter how trim I look, I’m in trouble until I drop to a healthy weight?” I asked her.

I checked my Map My Run™ app. It actually hadn’t ‘paused’ yet for once.

“Enough of your stupid contemptuous blather.” She interjected, waving me to shut my mouth. “I failed Botendaddy. I failed in life. I’m the stupid loser daughter who failed her family. I had all the advantages. It was mine for the taking. I should be married. I should have 2.3 kids. I should have a life and 2.7 cars and a house and 1.8 pets. Instead, I’m out here with you. I am in a living hell and its your fault, you sickening, perverted, mindless, soulless freak.” She said, almost in tears.

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The rain rolls silently in

“I concur. I’m not sure how I’m going to do on the 10k. I’m running as hard as I can, but my miles are going by too slow. I feel like I’m at a full sprint, but my times are just horrible. I’m going to shoot for 32 minutes on the first half of it and see how it goes. It’s supposed to be all on trails though.” I stated.

We walked around a new development that was still under construction.

“Listen. We should be married. In a big, lavish ceremony in the Dutch Reformed Church in D.C., where all my friends and family can finally pay homage to me as a normal person. YES, NORMAL GODDAMMIT! There is a normal and I ain’t it! What are you some f*&king half English Episcopalian-Half Bohemian-Jewish whatever? Anyway, who the hell cares what you are.”

I pondered her statement for a minute. “Train harder! I get it! I’m not as fit as I think I am. I look good on the outside, but I’m hell on the inside.”

She stopped me for a minute, facing me and she stood up on her tiptoes looking me straight in the eyes.

“Shut the f&*k up already, you ass! Listen to me, I’m talking now not you! We should have repeated sexual intercourse, over and over again until I get pregnant. Do you know what the purpose of man-on-woman sex is? To make babies. You think the purpose of of sex is to dominate, humiliate, degrade, defile, to cover a defenseless woman in your vile, slobbering, sticky bodily fluids, to leave her dirty and in a state of self-loathing, then to restrain, spank and admonish her like a stupid naughty child. I’m a grown liberated woman! I’m an important person, but you treat me like a rubber sex-toy! My god, I love it!” She moaned and started weeping uncontrollably.

We crossed the very dangerous country lane. The cars zipped by at about 65 in the 25 mph zone. It was like a cross between Frogger™ and ‘Death Race 2000’©.

“You know, a woman loved me once…” I said wistfully, pondering my long-lost Annabel Lee. “Well, I see what you’re getting at. It’s about closing the loop, staying healthy for the rest of my life.”

I could see her pretty face tighten again.

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The dangerous country lane

“Enough of this idiocy. You are hideous, disgusting, ugly to your very blackened soul, you are monstrous beyond words. I hate the mere sight of you, but I am madly in love with you. When I’m apart from you, I literally feel like I’m dying, I’m crawling out of my skin, my heart is aching beyond words. Don’t you get it, you old weirdo? We belong together! I will get off the pill.”

I began to worry. She was more insane than usual. I wondered how she could afford to fly from D.C. to Fayette County so often. Then I remembered she was incredibly rich. Why can’t she find a man? I wondered, she’s beautiful, hard-bodied, successful. Wait…she’s insane! No sane woman could ever stand me! She’s tongue-hanging out, chained to the Bedlam wall psycho!

“I own you.” She growled. “You belong to me-forever! You are mine and I am yours. You will never, ever leave me and you will stop f&*king those dirty, dirty whores from the writer’s workshop or I will cut out your shitty heart like an Aztec volcano sacrifice. We will live in the big house in D.C. My parents will HAAAATE you, but whatever. My life is slipping away and all you talk about is your stupid diet and running. Does it ever end? Let your daughter handle the estate. She’s practically Mrs. Havisham anyway. She roams around that f&^king mansion like lady MacBeth. The two of your are odd, like the creepy brother and sister in ‘The Fall of the House of Usher.’ You two need to be separated before you both go insane.”

“Librarian, I do love you so, but my daughter is a righteous young woman. You should never speak ill of her. She’s going to college in the fall. She actually likes you the best, you should never disparage her.”

Usually, I just absorbed all the hate, but taking a poke at the ethereal, mystical, early 19th century Boten-Daughter angered me. The Librarian sensed this and tried to walk it back. She burst into tears.

“I’m sorry. I apologize. She has always been very kind to me. I didn’t know that, obviously her being so beautiful, unlike you, (thank god she was adopted-which explains her good looks), she knows a true beauty like me when she sees one.”

We had almost reached my car.

“Listen. You are a wonderful girl. I hold you in the highest regard, but you are right, my precious. There is no end game. It’s 199 or bust. There’s no going back. I want that 27 minute 5k.”

“Oh for god’s sake just get into my van and let’s f#@k already. If you don’t f&%k me right here right now, I feel like I’m going to die.”

“Latte?”

Peace be the Botendaddy

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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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