Running
So my feet are destroyed. That’s the last time i trust Mother Nature and run 5 miles to test the waters about doing the 8k on Saturday morning. I did fine the first 2.2 miles and was love everything. It was the way back that was murder.
The wind from the ocean was blowing at me, giving my face a nice scrubbing of sand and most likely other materials from the sand that are not to be mentioned…EVER! I am now 145lbs. I forgot what it was like to be 5’5” and 145lbs since it has been years that this event has happened. I was used to be short but round and being weighed down but the mountain of delicious peanut butter sandwitches, ice cream and chips have given me. I almost missed it…especially at this time.
I was wearing nothing but a t-shirt, and sweat pants. It was supposed to be 70 degrees…warm and fun. However, it was cold…and evil! My hands started to turn purple. People walked by me with smiles on their faces. Either they were truly happy to be outside and loving the tranquil smell of the ocean or they were experiencing some sort of schadenfruede watching me…dying…turning cold. I could have gone into shock and these people would have kept walking. Loving their tiny lives and saying, “That poor homosexual man…he died of the cold. Let this be a lesson to other homosexual men.”
The people to pick up my body would look at my t-shrit that read, “PITCHER” and chuckled about the fact that yet another top in the Hampton Roads area had died…leaving nothing but bottoms and “vers” men who haven’t topped since they were 18.
I pushed against the wind, I told the wind to eat me and told myself I could run 4 entire blocks then walk 4 and so on and so on. Enter the blue hair.
She wore her purple jogging outfit with not much grace. Obviously, she received it from her family who told her to no longer walk in the mall. It was weird and the grand children did not want to explain to their friends why their grandmother in front of Old Navy every morning….the store they were doomed to work out as well.
I ran past her and looked at her. I nodded my head, the universal gesture of hello. Men nodded back and females smiled…hoping it wasn’t a gang sign of me raping her in the future. It was not…but the men nodding didn’t know that I wanted their head in my lap nodding up and down…in the bathroom of course….or my car.
The woman in the purple jogging outfit did not nod back. I glared forward and rant not 4 blocks…but one. It was an epic failure on my part and I won this sad event…but I still declare it a triumph. The wind was blowing so hard, the purple outfit was behind me and some hot guy just nodded at me…letting me have a momentary fantasy of me fucking him against a urinal. It’s not my thing usually…but it would do.
I hear someone coming up behind me and turn and it’s puple outfit. I was angry, so I got myself together. In my ears, Britney told me to give her more. I used her words as if they were a personal trainer asking me to give him more….oh I would give you more…in the locker room…bottom boy.
I ran…this time I ran two blocks and I was winded. The force of the wind pushed me back and it was like being pushed. I couldn’t run the typical 4 minutes that I did. I looked back and the purple outfit was about to pass me again. I swear the bitch was running just to humiliate me. So I let her win…knowing the horrible cold grip of death would catch up to her soon. Or a baseball bat to her knees…which ever I’m able to conjure first.
I decided walking on the boardwalk was a bad idea. I was extremely cold to the point that I had to run with my hands in my pocket. It was not yet 5pm and I didn’t have my cell phone to call Christian to tell him to pick me up. It was either get to the car or I would fall over dead from shock and I accomplished something.
The walk back was uneventufl. There was not one hot guy. I did discover that warmth, humiliation and sex do encourage my life. If I get a flat stomach more men would want to touch it therefore more men would take their clothing off for me.
I saw the HIlton, which to me was no longer a sign of the elite…but a sign of the car. My feet were hurting, I was very cold and angry at the weather…and finally I was horny…but with no energy to take anyone to the car to let me have my way with them. I got home…fingers unable to move. Exhausted…hungry…and just wanting to sleep.
