Four Minute Rule

I have exactly four minutes to say something, anything about the Memorial 5k I ran last weekend. In a word, quick. In two words, flat and fun.
This was part of a two-day festival, craft fair, parade, you name it, complete with a cannon blast signaling the start of a civil war reenactment. The run kicked off the whole affair at, wait for it, where else but the library. And talk about informal! No start line to speak of. No timer within sight. I joked about my bib number being the area code for Maine and no one got it (Hello? 207? Never mind). As I looked around I saw a bunch of fancy people with Garmin gear all warming up and feeling for pulses. Probably, I’d say, 70 people running. Total. All of them wealthy as fukc. I mean, who runs in diamonds? Who sweats with pearls? All in head to toe matching outfits. I knew my place immediately. Back of the lulumon pack. Seriously.
I ran a good run. 28 minutes flat according to MMR. I would have broken 28 except I stopped to help a girl who had fallen flat on her face right in front of me. She tripped over a pebble somewhere in the road and planted. Hard. I couldn’t just run by her. Could I? That would have been rude. Right?
After the run the church hosted a pretty decent pancake breakfast. Me, myself and moi, we like to eat, so you know what we were doing. đŸ˜‰
So. That was the 5k. The end.

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Categories: Charity, Confessional, life, running | Tags: , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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