41 Seconds is All I Get?

I was out for a walk in the summer woods, whence I came upon the Park Ranger who was making his usual rounds on behalf of the Pa. Department of Agriculture.

“Hello, delectable Botendaddy. Hiroyuki texted me with a tweet on Facebook via Instagram with a YouTube video in LinkedIn.”


Irrelevant hot-rod photo

Obviously the Park Ranger was getting too techie.

We strolled up the wide rail trail. It was cool in the shade and hot in the sun.

“Park Ranger, you look well. You know I read an article somewhere that said that you only clip 41 seconds off of your 5k for each 15 pounds of weight you lose. I mean WTF? I thought after losing 60-plus pounds I’d be running 29:00 by now. It makes no sense.”

The Park Ranger, being no less of a fitness buff like Ramon also moonlighted as a personal trainer. He trained super-sexy, super-hot, tanned, wealthy housewives of the tri-state area. Fortunately for their pathetic cuckolded husbands, The Park Ranger was an extreme homosexual.


Scenic woodland film-noir glamour shot

“Listen, big sexy, it’s your heart.”

Serendipitously, we were joined by a new character. Slightly chubby, dark-skinned, thick-luxurious-raven-haired-foreign doctor-resident-girl.

“My heart?” I asked nervously.

“Yes, he is to have been being so right, you are big, big man and very, very sexy!”

But, I meant my heart, you crazy weird foreign doctor-girl.

“Whatever, man, what he means is that now you are thinner and trying to run faster, your muscles can do more than your heart can. Your tanned, *red-hot* muscles are working easier to propel your delicious American manly-bhoddy. But your heart has not caught up. It’s not used to the speed and exertion.”

We crested the hill past the old mill.

“Icky girlie.” The Park Ranger muttered under his breath. “I hate to agree with you, but you are right. The utterly delectable Botendaddy’s heart has not yet caught up with his muscles.”

I contemplated this discussion as we came down the other side of the hill. We crossed the terrifying country road. ‘Frogger, Frogger’, I thought.


The country Frogger-Pedestrian-death-road

We made it alive to the trail on the other side of the road.

“There is only one solution O’ yon ravishingly man-beautiful Botendaddy, you have to run faster and further, hills and trails, to boost your heart rate.” Said the Park Ranger, leering at my delicious, lean, tanned body.

The doctor boldly pushed him aside as we walked.

“Listen, sexy, North American devil-man. You have a freakishly low resting heart rate of 48 bpm. So your heart is jumping pretty high when you run hills, run fast or exceed your usual distance. Listen to your well-built, but obviously homosexual, *hot* perfect-body, hope-you’re-not-in-a-relationship-with-him Park Ranger-man-loss to all womanhood-person.”

“Wow, I’ve never heard so many hyphens spoken out loud. You say you come from a former British Crown Colony?”

“I’ve never seen so many re-tread photos from other blog-entries on one website, so shut up now and will you please make love to me and marry me in a weird Hollywood possibly racist depiction of unidentified foreigners marriage ceremony with lots of shitty goats back in my unidentified home country?”

“Iced Mocha?”

Peace be the Botendaddy



About Botendaddy

Three times voted extreme sexiest man alive...by acclamation. I run because I must...I must!
This entry was posted in Dining, Exercise, Food and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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