Monday, August 02, 2004

Wheezing little bitch

You may not know this, but I’ve got some displaced machismo in me. Oh yes, my friend, it’s there. Not in the form of beating my women into submission, but in being The Man athletically. I don’t dare compare myself with the Lance Armstrongs of the world, but if a friend says to me, “Wanna race?” well then, by God, bring it on, beeyotch!

My running group is for those who have completed at least one marathon with an average time of between 8:00-9:00 minutes per mile. Last weekend a few newbies showed up which is normal the closer we get to a marathon date. This is my group. I don’t lead, but I’m Lead Dog, know what I mean? I don’t organize the shit, I just finish it with the best time. I always do. That’s just how it is. Sure, I could move up to the blue group and find myself more challenged, dragging my limp carcass in dead last every week, but who needs that shit weighing on their morale?

Last Saturday was Breck’s first day with us. First off, I have an issue with his sissy name, but that’s not for this post. Breck was built like a matchstick, or The Dave, take your pick. When the shout out was made I took my usual position at the back of the pack and fully expected to work my way to the front as usual, offering greetings to each of the runners as I smoked their snail asses. Only when I got to the front of the line, I found Breck. I blew it off and let him have it, not wanting to look like the asshole that I am trying kill us both to win a fucking warm-up. But the ribbing I got all week and again yesterday morning really got to me. “What’s the matter, Jay? That youngin’ whoop up on ya?” Fuck off, retard.

So yesterday morning I was hell-bent on redeeming myself. I showed up, took my medicine with a smile and friendly laugh, and made my mark. He was standing at the front, the twat, wearing red. Perfect. I won’t loose him in the crowd. When the shout was given we headed out. My original plan was to take it easy and let him burn himself out, but when I saw he had to be pushing into the 7 minute range I nearly shit a brick. Slow the fuck down!

I started trucking past the crowds, dropping my Hi there’s and How you doin’s? as I cruised by, my eye always on the mark. Breckwad was elbowing the leader and edging on by. I spent the better part of three miles trying to inconspicuously close the gap. I don’t think so, asslog. I’ll fucking kill us both before I put up with another week of that shit.

By mile 10 I was on his ass, brushing his heels. I’d been running at an 8 mph pace for miles already and I could feel the blood in my face and sweat running down my face and back and chest. Nobody could have looked at me and thought I was having an easy time of it but I’ll be damned if I let him know that. I eased up on his left and forced a casual, “How’s it going, man?” You fucking lab rat on crack.

“Hey. Jay, is it?”

I was puffing my chest out, trying to avoid the slumped over, old tired dude look. “Yep. And your name is…?” Dildo? Glory hound?

“Breck.”

That’s right, the pussy name. We reached mile 12, only 1 mile to go. I stretched my stride, picking up a few seconds. He matched it. I quickened my pace, just a bit. He matched it. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye and saw him do the same. We both looked straight ahead again, the silent gauntlet had been thrown! This time he moved ahead. I don’t think so, you fucking tuna troll. Big Jay ‘bout to break out the mojo on your skinny ass! I leaned in and pushed it out, stretching my stride as far as I could take it. He fell behind quick and I heard him pant to catch up. I could see our target site less than a quarter mile away. He reappeared beside me and for a moment I could see his wicked scapulas, not a pretty site. We became two idiotic children, all out sprinting after a 12 mile full-on run, elbow to elbow, grunting, grimacing, sweat flying in every direction, gravel crunching beneath our Mizunos. My legs ached, my lungs burned. I had to be running around 9.5 mph now, or a 6 minute mile. Go, fucker, don’t let that punkbitch show you up! Get your ass in gear, now! Go! Muscles I didn’t know I had burst into action at the last second. It came down to a toe, but holyshit, I did it! Take that, cod nibla! I touched down first on the paved parking lot of our destination site.

I cruised to a jog and circled back around to where Breck was hunched over with his hands on his knees, heaving for air. “Walk it out, man. Don’t stop. Keep moving until your rate comes back down.” He did as he was told while I headed off toward the cars. “I need to be somewhere, Breck. Can you let them know I left? Thanks, and good run. Let’s do it again next week.” He coughed and gasped and waved me on, the little pussy. I headed to my truck, climbed behind the steering wheel, and when I was sure nobody could see me I collapsed horizontally onto the front seat and wheezed like the little bitch that I am.