The Boys (and Girls) are Back in Town -- Part Deux

PreScript: Next year, when I say I want to go on the fishing trip, will someone please remind me that I'm not a morning person and then also remind me how painful it is to get up at 3:30 in the morning when you're not a morning person?! As I said to Brenda earlier in the week, fishing wasn't even in my top 1457 favorite things to do list, and I think 1457 is “Walk across a bed of nails.” I guess like running the 5K, it’s more about the people than the activity, which, oh so conveniently leads me to the continuation of last night’s story.

It was a dark and stormy night; in fact, it was pouring rain (cats and dogs to be exact), right out of those dark clouds! I thought, “How could it be a dark and stormy night when Brenda said it wasn’t going to rain?!?!? Then, I put my Hello Kitty umbrella down and realized that due to only five hours of sleep last night, I had somehow wandered into the wrong story!

I headed to the start line with everyone except Amrit and Brenda. I was worried, because Brenda and Amrit didn't usually go off and not return in a timely fashion. I hemmed and I hawed; by the way, what is hemming and hawing exactly? I did it, but to this day, I’m not sure what it actually involves. Is it hemming a pair of pants while watching "Hee Haw?!"

We went to the start line, thinking that Brenda and Amrit wouldn’t be too far behind us. If I wasn’t giving a damn and giving a damn right then, I was totally bummed out that Amrit and Brenda were AWOL. It didn’t seem right starting without them.

Later, when all mysteries were revealed, like the one about who got me hooked on the 5K race, an unnamed source disclosed that Amrit stopped to get a chair massage. After this detour, Amrit told the unnamed source after arriving late to meet the team, “Don’t tell Jean!” I don’t know why Amrit would think I’d be upset; I was the one who subscribed to the "Leave no runner behind" theory and stood there conflicted singing the Clash's "Should I Stay or Should I Go." As we walked toward the start line, I was so giving a damn that Amrit and Brenda weren’t with the rest of us recreational runners.

At the start line, runners had to gather in their group; these groups were walker, recreational, and competitive. While most of us had signed up as “recreational runners,” we situated ourselves on the sidewalk between the “competitive” runners and the “recreational” runners. I felt a bit guilty jumping the line like that.

About two minutes before the race was about to start, the recreational runners were instructed to move up and close the gap between themselves and the competitive runners. We rogue runners moved from the sidewalk to the road to be the “Stuf” between the recreational and competitive runners chocolate cookie. My guilt lessened when I thought about Oreo cookies and saw that a lot of the competitive runners had six pack abs.

That is, it looked like they had been drinking a six-pack a night. I then thought that most of us rogues looked like we were the more the competitive runners. But, I’m sure some those six-pack ab competitive runners would have beaten us to a pulp in order to grab the last can of Coors Light!

About a minute before the gun went off, I saw Amrit step in from the side walk. I exclaimed, “You found us!” I asked where Brenda was, and Amrit said that Brenda had decided to remain in the pack of recreational runners.

We waited for the gun to go off. I nervously shifted my weight from side to side and pondered whether to start my music then or wait. Then I thought, “God, I can’t believe I give a damn!”

Pow! The gun went off. Runners started to walk toward the start line. Within thirty seconds, we crossed the start line and began to run.

Donna, Amrit and I stayed together for a bit. At one point, I looked back, and I knew that Amrit had fallen off our running train. I struggled to stay with Donna, and like the little train that could, I kept replaying Bruce Cockburn’s Night Train on my iPod, which is one of my top ten favorite songs of all time.

At about the 2-mile mark, Donna started to move beyond me or I slowed down. I wasn’t exactly sure which happened first. In retrospect, I think both scenarios happened simultaneously.

I wanted to keep up, but I also wanted to finish. Given that I had only given a damn about running since I arrived back at work six weeks earlier, I decided to watch Donna’s blue running shorts swish off into the sea of runners on that crowed street in Manchester, NH. There was always next year!

When Donna’s shorts went missing in the running action, a black sedan pulled up alongside me. Someone was madly tapping on the window inside the car, which I thought was a signal for me to pull over. When I did, the window rolled down, a handsome man popped his head out the window and asked, “Jean, would you like to come to the Academy Awards with me next year?” OMG, it was George Clooney!

Okay, that didn’t really happen. But, again, wouldn’t it have been cool if it did? The fishing trip has taken its toll on me, so tune in tomorrow for the continuing 5K race saga…mmmmmm, BA, ha, ha!

Well, in the past, I've heard my blog is too long, my blog is too positive, and that my blog condemns Amazons on steroids. (By the way, wouldn't that be a great name for an all-girl punk band? Amazons on Steroids!) In the end, especially at the end of this blog, all I think my blog needs is a few cliff hangers once in a while. So, here you go! ♥