They say that Canton Avenue is the steepest dedicated street in North America. That means a real street not some phony-ass bull$hit street.
Beechview, PA. This is real y’all.
It is 37 degrees at race time, thank god. You know I love the cold.
You can’t really get ready for this. Oh, you can train I suppose, but that’s about it.
The route starts on Canton Avenue and then it actually gets worse. Endless turns uphill, cobblestone street, weird alleyways. Long uphills and knee-crushing downhills.
I was joined by the Shadyside ‘All Blacks’ named for the New Zealand Rugby club, except all of them are black: the Carribbean Queen, Devon, The Voat Fat People Hate Verified Shitlady, then there was Ramon, who is Argentine and Heroku who is Japanese thus they are sort of ethnic.
“What’s up devil Botendaddy? Are you ready for this?” Asked he Carribbean Queen. “It’s cold out here, hold me.”
“No, hold me! She’s a Scooty-puff riding Laardvark, Ham-mate, Co-porker, Crisco-demon, butter-huffer…”
The CQ motioned the VFPHVS to stop.
“Please don’t start this early or I will beat the shit out of you, sistah.” Said the CQ.
Ramon and Devon pulled the women apart before the inevitable beating.
“You know, I got thinner, but to really get ripped, I mean to look truly lean, with no visible bodyfat you’ve got to be below 22 BMI and lift and do aerobic exercise and for god’s sake, get a tan.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Said Devon, the CQ and the VFPHSL all in unison. “Is it because we’re black?”
“Ah imperialistic, jingoistic, racist, sexist, homophobic Shitlording! Why don’t you just say ‘you people'” Added Ramon helpfully.
“Round-eye, Godzilla, Hiroshima, green giant, internment camp, white-devil, Nisei-hater!” Chimed in Heroku.
“Well, anyone can tan, damnit.”
The Steel Drum band played ‘Climb Every Mountain‘™©®. In protest, the All Blacks sang ‘Doe a deer, a female deer!‘™©®, but the street was too dirty to take a knee. I sang ‘Ain’t no mountain high enough’™©®, in horrible Phil Spector Falsetto.
Canton Avenue itself wasn’t too bad, but it was too jammed to start fast, but the 37 degree cold burned my lungs, then there was the next hill, then the next hill. It was like, OMFG, WTF. As he hit the next downhill, the women started fighting again.
“Why are you the Caribbean Queen? I’m from the Virgin Islands, anyway. My dad’s from Ponte Vedra. You fat, heffalump, carb-destroyer, mayo-dumpster.” Said the VFPHVSL.
“I’m going to beat you to death in five seconds, yuh Skettel, Guh cotch yuh batty!”
Devon stepped in between the women.
“Please stop, you’re making us look bad in front of whitey, Equinsu Ocha, the Devil, Mr. Charlie, Bobo, The man.” Devon glanced back in my direction.
Getting thinner didn’t help. Sure I could run the challenge but not well. I still got beaten by a couple of people who were not thin. I’ve now been under 200 pounds for about six weeks. Been under BMI for about two months. Getting thin is not enough.
My mile time wasn’t bad, just over 11 minutes. My two mile and three mile times weren’t horrible, but the last hill was pure murder. At the finish line all five of the ‘Shadyside All Blacks’ were rolling in the grass fighting. I didn’t bother to break it up. I leaned over them and I whispered:
Peace be the Botendaddy