Which means I’ve been taking my damn sweet time to post pix from this weekend. Unfortunately, I don’t have very many to share.
The Proud to Run Big Gay 10K on Saturday morning gave us the perfect running weather: cool, slightly misty and packed with homosexuals. I had a good run, though I came in 40th of the 51 guys in my age group. (I thought that once the guys my age started dying out I’d suddenly surge forward in race rankings without having to do much more than bury a few bodies. Clearly I was wrong.)
I also thought my smile looked lucid when this picture was taken, so what the hell do I know? (Also: I didn’t know I had started to develop what look to be lumpy manboobs. For now, I choose to blame the camera.)(See that mess of colored dots hanging on the awards stage behind us? I assume it’s supposed to be some abstraction of the rainbow-colored pride flag. Or a mangled Twister mat. But it came off more as evidence that the race had been sponsored by Wonder Bread. I'm just sayin’.)
Unfortunately, that cool, slightly misty weather lingered all afternoon, and it made us downright cold as we sat outside Crew sipping our drinks and eating our might-have-been-warm-at-one-time burgers. Though a lot of pictures were taken, I didn’t end up being in many of them. In fact, I managed to worm my way into only one and a half of them. Just so you know what I was wearing, here’s what I looked like shivering in my solo portrait:
And to prove I wasn’t sitting there alone, asking strangers to take my picture in a pathetic attempt to make you-all think I have friends I hang out at bars with, here’s a group picture featuring two mostly intact people framed by random parts of other members from our drinking and dining party:
Notice my headless torso off to the side. See? I was there! Notice also that while my compatriots were still quaffing alcoholic beverages, I had switched to Diet Coke by the time this picture was taken. Because half-cooked burgers and light beer seem to do weird things to my stomach. Kind of like Ann Coulter and Paris Hilton, both of whom reappeared this week to darken our world once the clouds and the rain cleared after race day. But it’s sunny and muggy today, so they must have crawled back in their holes. And if they want to come back out Saturday morning when we have to pound out a 14-mile training run, I guess I’d welcome the frosty clouds of brain death they bring with them. Bring on the pointless blonds!