Three miles! 10:46 pace!

The 10:16 pace was actually just Rob and me; he slogged along with my slow ass so we could talk about SHOW TUNES! Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Rival-gang-member-and-occasional-interloper Traci (whom I’m calling a rival gang member here solely for the purpose of layering dramatic tension into this artfully nuanced narrative) sprinted ahead with pack-leader Scott and talked about the dreary sociopolitical metaphors of prescription constipation medication commercials. Or grapes. Or something. How would I know? I was in the back discussing Bernadette Peters’ surprisingly tepid movie career with Rob.

Anyway, here is this morning’s litany of complaints:
• Rob was 10 minutes late because he went the wrong way on the highway
• Because Bernadette Peters’ surprisingly tepid movie career is distressing to the point of highway distraction
• Rob’s 10 minute delay seems to have increased the potentially us-hitting automobile cross traffic on our running trail exponentially
• BECAUSE ROB WENT THE WRONG WAY ON THE HIGHWAY THIS MORNING
• WHO DOES THAT?
• OK, I’ve done it a couple times too
• But I’ll never admit it on here
• The fog this morning was insane
• Autocorrect just insisted that I wanted to write about insane figs
• That’s crazy
• Anyway, back to the fog ...
• It was so thick
• (How thick was it?)
• The fog this morning was so thick that it made us all sopping wet after our run
• What? Not everything has to be a joke, people
• Sheesh
• Let’s see ... Rob has driving-moron issues, Traci ran with us, Scott may or may not have talked about grapes, I’m awesome because this is my narrative and I control the content, Bernadette Peters, lots of cross traffic, insane figs, wet runners, sheesh ... that about covers everything
• Except we tried to stand or squat in levels for our post-run selfie and I chose to squat and then I had a hard time standing up afterward
• Probably because I have scurvy caused by an acute grape deficiency
• Or maybe it’s figs
• Which is insane