It was 33 degrees and overcast. I did not have high hopes for the run.
Ramon and the Park Ranger joined me.
“You need the motivation.”
Said the Park Ranger.
“You are becoming melancholy and depressing.”
Its very old-country Spanish, though.
“He’s always melancholy and depressing.” Said the Park Ranger.
The first half-mile was fast, but I’d been falling off dramatically in the second half. This time I hit 8:48. Terrible but better than 11:00 flat.
“You are running better, despite your enormous, del.ic.io.us, reeking, putrid, tasty adult diaper.” Added Ramon helpfully.
“He is simply beautiful. A vision of masculine loveliness, like a modern day Vito Muscularo, the great Venetian 19th-Century bodybuilder. But not as attractive or built or tanned or muscular.” Mentioned the Park Ranger wistfully.
We ran a sub 20:00 minute two Miler well within the APFT level for my shitty age group.
It wasn’t a nice comeback from the total deterioration this year. The three mile time was feeble, but vastly improved.
“This run is really boring, let’s get in Botendaddy’s giant hot tub.” Said Ramon.
“Good idea.” Chimed in the Park Ranger.”
“You guys are so gay.”
Peace be the Botendaddy