Look, you can't just go around passing people without any retribution, Mr. Passed Me Right When I'm About Set Some Land Speed Records.
OK, I admit it. I was going a little slow on that downhill. But as you could clearly see it was still within the first mile on the trail. If you knew anything at all about running, that is what we call a warm-up mile. The next half-mile you would've been hard-pressed to pass me at my sub-8:00 mile pace.
If I wanted to, I could have passed you immediately after you passed me. But instead I chose to stay at your heels until you chickened out and turned around. I hope you learned your lesson.
Heart, Viper
P.S., Yes, that was a smirk you saw on my face as I headed out a mile farther before turning back.
P.P.S., I appreciated your acceleration to separate from me on that hill 300 feet from where you quit. Otherwise I would have run up your back when you slowed down, which would have looked something like this ...
These two fatty, old guys rounded a corner from a side street and just about collided with me as I approached the park entrance for the final three miles of my long run. The chatty Kathies said something about finishing at the same time I figured I would. No effing way was that happening.
Their voices receded into the telescoping distance as I torched them on a downhill. By the time I was due for another sissy walk break, the Brothers Chub were nowhere in sight. Being that guy is addictive.
Mark it, dude, another strong run in the books. Three more weeks until Cleveland. Hometown Pride
[Drunkard's note: Thanks to With Leather for the link.]
A little shout out to fellow Akronite Chris Bryant, the realcar jumper, for his Nike commercial. I think I'm next! What for? Perhaps highlights of this would suffice. I got mad skills too!
I've hit my stride in terms of training, but I've hit the wall re: blogging. Each run has been focused toward the goal of getting stronger, faster and going longer to the point that I quickly reach the Running No Mind state. Time and distance seem to disappear. It's akin to the sensation I get when I look down and wonder where that last pitcher went. I've been so mindless that I didn't even flashback last week. I'm sure you were all aghast at my negligence.
Perhaps I'm just too accustomed to consistently writing about my latest screw-ups that I don't know what to say when things are going good. So, perhaps some bragging is in order.
Being That Guy Last night's six mile tempo run may have turned me into No. 12. Martini and I set a strong pace early and managed to keep it up despite the hilliness of our usual park path. Usually, the only runners we pass are going the opposite direction. However, we overtook a grand total of five runners, two on the steepest hill. One we passed on the upslope and another on the down, whom we had passed going the other way before we chased down the first guy.
Initiate chest bump! Arm flex! Grunt!
And then I went out and pounded some beer and watched sports.
Go Bother Someone Else All right, that's all I have. Go elsewhere, young reader, and grow up with the Innernets:
Nitmos has returned from Boston with a dramatic race report. Part 1 and Part 2 are filled with tension and strife. UPDATE: Part 3 is presumably on the way once he stops being so lazy finally here.
Sarah reminds us that even though the weather is nice, we can still complain about it, repeatedly.
And since it's Friday and Happy Hour looms, here are some tips from the United Booze Federation in case you find yourself in a situation where you have to act sober.
And if you don't like those links, go find your own distractions. Do I have to spoon-feed you ways to slack off? Or, I don't know, you could do your job.
"Halp! Halp! Mai aksellerayshunz dont go fastur!"
"Halp! Halp! Mai aksellerayshunz dont go fastur!"
