Gaddafi on the Finish Line
When you're having jogging as your regular exercise, you'd probably been to these charitable events they call fun run where you get to jog with a lot of people and have an excuse to give money for a cause, like dog rabies, nuclear fallouts, save the artic, end of days... the list could go on because they can think just about anything that highways are closed more often for people running for something. I could run for a cause or two, considering the creativity people come up with to run for, there'd be some cause that would be of my concern soon enough.
I have been jogging regularly for a couple of years now but I always want do it alone. Peter has been asking me to join a couple of fun runs with him before but I never did, he probably knows that I wouldn't want to be in the middle of a crowd where people in running shoes go socially phony with everybody else at the starting line. But last week I gave thought of this coming fun run he told me where the pot money would be donated to the fire department, peter works part time driving a fire truck and I used to work in the fire department office, and I know how badly the whole system needs a good funding the same way peter feels about his fire truck.
So I gave it a try.
I got at the starting point a little past five in the morning, peter was surprised to see me show up at the scene thinking I was wasted the night before after having some beers but I only had four bottles, I felt pretty much fine that morning anyway.
The fire marshal gave the opening speech since the whole fun run thing is about fire trucks and burning houses and I think he should work on his speech tone when he talked because he sounded like a total drag and nobody was listening. I knew nobody was listening because we were all caught by surprise when he just shot his blanks from his pistol to start running without even hearing him make the countdown, people just scampered and pushed me over to run. I have jogged for years and I know you had to accelerate slow to get yourself running for kilometers, but at this fun run everybody bursted into top speed all together on one hell of a stampede of their lives. Me and peter were supposed to run together but I lost him and I had to forget about momentum and sprinted shoulder to shoulder with everybody else.
About half a kilometer later, somebody behind me yelled
Hah... this is actually exhausting!
I was relieved that they started bailing out that early, the others who couldn't fake running anymore gave up when the route went up on a flyover. I never jogged on an uphill slope before but it reminded me of how hard gravity works.
The road to the finish line became less swarming with running people thereon, I could spread my arms and spin like julie andrews in the sound of music and wouldn't hit anybody anymore, but I wouldn't do that, I'd look very stupid because I was on the middle of the road and a lot of cars stuck on the other side are watching me. Even running on the middle of the road was stupid enough, I'd end up in other people's stories how I got them late to work that morning by screwing traffic.
I ran peacefully to the finish line where peter was already waiting , he was pumping his fist trying to say hurry up or something like that. I shrugged my shoulders because nobody was catching up or cutting on my lane. You see if you were on the first 150 people who got to the finish line, they'd give you a shirt for all the trouble and sweat you made that morning. I knew I made it to the list so I didn't hurry, I wasn't making a headcount but it was some kind of an intuition I had.
I was the 123rd runner to finish but I was surprised that they wouldn't give me my prize of a shirt.
I just made it to the first 150!
They said that they'd only give 120 pieces to men and the other 30 to women.
Nobody said that the other 30 didn't need any pair of testicles to finish!
In fact none of their goddam promotions weeks before ever said anything about that at all. It must have been a disclaimer clause the size of ants at the bottom.
The ladies shirt can fit me, I wear small sizes!
But they wouldn't budge like barnacles on a rock and I gave up arguing because I was running out of air after running all those goddam kilometers for nothing. All they gave me was some paper for a trophy I could show off that I finished the whole route. Hell it didn't even have my name on it, so I just wrote muammar gaddafi and maybe to cheer this libyan megalomaniac up after his whole government is starting to go down the drain.
Peter later told me that his whole laptime is at 23 minutes, mine at 26 minutes and his wife at 44 minutes, he was pretty much after beating the clock. The couple asked me if I wanted to go grab something to eat for breakfast, but gaddafi wasn't so hungry after missing out on the goddam shirt.
I have been jogging regularly for a couple of years now but I always want do it alone. Peter has been asking me to join a couple of fun runs with him before but I never did, he probably knows that I wouldn't want to be in the middle of a crowd where people in running shoes go socially phony with everybody else at the starting line. But last week I gave thought of this coming fun run he told me where the pot money would be donated to the fire department, peter works part time driving a fire truck and I used to work in the fire department office, and I know how badly the whole system needs a good funding the same way peter feels about his fire truck.
So I gave it a try.
I got at the starting point a little past five in the morning, peter was surprised to see me show up at the scene thinking I was wasted the night before after having some beers but I only had four bottles, I felt pretty much fine that morning anyway.
The fire marshal gave the opening speech since the whole fun run thing is about fire trucks and burning houses and I think he should work on his speech tone when he talked because he sounded like a total drag and nobody was listening. I knew nobody was listening because we were all caught by surprise when he just shot his blanks from his pistol to start running without even hearing him make the countdown, people just scampered and pushed me over to run. I have jogged for years and I know you had to accelerate slow to get yourself running for kilometers, but at this fun run everybody bursted into top speed all together on one hell of a stampede of their lives. Me and peter were supposed to run together but I lost him and I had to forget about momentum and sprinted shoulder to shoulder with everybody else.
About half a kilometer later, somebody behind me yelled
Hah... this is actually exhausting!
I was relieved that they started bailing out that early, the others who couldn't fake running anymore gave up when the route went up on a flyover. I never jogged on an uphill slope before but it reminded me of how hard gravity works.
The road to the finish line became less swarming with running people thereon, I could spread my arms and spin like julie andrews in the sound of music and wouldn't hit anybody anymore, but I wouldn't do that, I'd look very stupid because I was on the middle of the road and a lot of cars stuck on the other side are watching me. Even running on the middle of the road was stupid enough, I'd end up in other people's stories how I got them late to work that morning by screwing traffic.
I ran peacefully to the finish line where peter was already waiting , he was pumping his fist trying to say hurry up or something like that. I shrugged my shoulders because nobody was catching up or cutting on my lane. You see if you were on the first 150 people who got to the finish line, they'd give you a shirt for all the trouble and sweat you made that morning. I knew I made it to the list so I didn't hurry, I wasn't making a headcount but it was some kind of an intuition I had.
I was the 123rd runner to finish but I was surprised that they wouldn't give me my prize of a shirt.
I just made it to the first 150!
They said that they'd only give 120 pieces to men and the other 30 to women.
Nobody said that the other 30 didn't need any pair of testicles to finish!
In fact none of their goddam promotions weeks before ever said anything about that at all. It must have been a disclaimer clause the size of ants at the bottom.
The ladies shirt can fit me, I wear small sizes!
But they wouldn't budge like barnacles on a rock and I gave up arguing because I was running out of air after running all those goddam kilometers for nothing. All they gave me was some paper for a trophy I could show off that I finished the whole route. Hell it didn't even have my name on it, so I just wrote muammar gaddafi and maybe to cheer this libyan megalomaniac up after his whole government is starting to go down the drain.
Peter later told me that his whole laptime is at 23 minutes, mine at 26 minutes and his wife at 44 minutes, he was pretty much after beating the clock. The couple asked me if I wanted to go grab something to eat for breakfast, but gaddafi wasn't so hungry after missing out on the goddam shirt.
posted by Lib at 9:52 PM
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