It was seven in the morning.
The streets of Niagara Falls, Ontario, 🇨🇦 Canada had not yet filled up with Beetus-Swilling, bloated, del.ic.io.us touristairoos (The fake Brazilian 🇧🇷 word for turistas).
I decided to run 🏃 down the hill towards the Falls. It was a little warmish, not quite cool. Thank Khufu, it was overcast.
I ran along the water’s edge when I was unexpectedly joined by two Commonwealth Crown 👑 subjects: The Caribbean Queen 👸 and British Columbia’s own Hiroyuki.
We ran across the little bridge. My first mile was excellent, about 8:17, but by the second mile, I had fallen to a barely acceptable 19:37, just within old-man APFT.
“You look 👀 really old and sad 😭 Yon Botendaddy.” Said the CQ, her eyes downcast at the horror… the horror…
“Yes, you look like the South end of a North-bound, diaper-wearing, brownuous Bowel-Genie. Ah the taste of it!” Also spraach Hiroyuki.
The third mile was a tragic 31:04, the 5k time about 32:30. I overshot my street and I had to climb Clifton Street, past all of the old attractions like Tussaud’s and Ripley’s, that so enthralled me as a kid, plus the Beetus-ful Tim Horton’s, home of the maxi-Beetus Mocha.
The four-mile time was an atrocious 44:02, but it was a steep hill.
“Why were you doing Fartleks?” (Pronounced Fart 💨 lick 👅) A stupid, smarmy European word for interval training. I would run really fast for one minute, then my usual pace the next minute, figuring it would help my overall run time for longer distances.
The girls ran in front of me on Victoria. I could see the sweat marks on their hot, sweaty, tasty 😋 Spandex ass-cracques. Ah the smell of it!
“Quit staring at our assess, you shit-covered old pervert” Said the CQ without looking back.
“Let’s get in your hot tub in your hotel suite and have a three-way, Canadian-Jamaican-American-Black-White-Asian ‘thing'” Suggested Hiroyuki.
“Iced Whole Milk Vanilla Latte?”
Peace be the Botendaddy