I had not run the hill in many many years.
So long ago, that I don’t remember.
I didn’t race up the hill, or bound up the hill, but it was kind of easy. I was never tired. I kept a steady pace.
First mile 10:19 that included the savage hill of death.
Then I ran through the park.
I thought that I heard someone behind me the whole way.
In the darkness of the park trail, they spoke.
“It is I, fatty, the ghost of running past!”
It was in fact, the Voat Fat People Hate Verified Shitlady.
“How did you find me?”
“Nice run up the hill Lardvaark, you butter-huffer. I would never ever run this trail at night without you. It’s just creepy.”
“I need to run more hills and more distance. I’ve got my weight down. I’ve been BMI normal for like 15 straight days. I understand that if you can maintain your weight for one year, the hormones and all the body’s resistance to weight loss wears off and it’s easier to maintain.”
“I think this is going to be my fastest five mile time of the year, and it’s still terrible.”
I’m “My god you’ve become boring, you Beetus-eating, Obeast, Skinnyfat, Hamplanet. Come back to my place when we’re done running and make love to me properly.”
Peace be the Botendaddy