Loser News

Well, I’ve taken time from drawing an Amish farmer with a pitch fork to relate another darkness that has been visited upon my life…by Dan. 

After training yesterday, Dan and I went for a run.  Now, due to my altitude poisoning (and scarfing down half a bag of cheddar harvest Sun Chips), I was only feeling about 99.3% of my usual studly self.  But, I put on my cut off sweats and sleevless Nike muscle shirt (*note: muscles not included), jammed my key card into an old Adidas wrist band I’d hollowed out to carry my MP3 player, fastened on my 18 month old New Balances, and went down to the third floor.

Dan opened the door, his mint condition jogging “outfit” freshly returned from the dry cleaners, and started some banal rant about how he just couldn’t get his IPod Running Mate Super Steroid Inducing techno-crap thing to talk to him while he’s running.  Then he pumped his shoes up with a mini-helium tank and advised that he was ready to go.

Well, we got outside and he started stretching his glumps or quints or something, and then we were off.  I headed out to the road at a lively trot, but Dan whined, “You got something against sidewalks?”  Well, except for girls using them, no, but I bit off my retort and hopped up on the curb while Dan adjusted his leg warmers.

Next thing I knew, Dan was running off, arms flailing spastically, and singing along with the ABBA tune blaring on his IPod.  Needless to say, I slowly drew back and gave him some space.

Three miles later, Dan was waiting back at the Holiday Inn, stretching his roids, and telling me how I fell short of his make believe finish line.  I tried to ignore him, but he was running around in circles all excited and singing Super Trooper at the top of his lungs.  So, I just went back to my room and finished off the chips.