I don’t know what you’re sellin’…but I’m buyin’ it!
This evening me and my BFF went for our longest run together, it was amazing. Besides, of course, the wonderful conversation, it was a GORGEOUS outside today…maybe even the nicest day of the year! Just about 70 degrees and the sun was lowering in the sky and we took each step in our run…PERFECT! And although my calculations of the elevation differences throughout the course may have been slightly off, I think it’s safe to say that both Liz and I made it through and feel fantastic now.
All of that is well and good, but that’s not what this post is about. We started and ended at Charter Oak Park in Manchester, and at the end of the run we stopped in at The Hungry Tiger so Liz could use the Ladies Room. Now, if you’re from this area, you know what type of establishment The Hungry Tiger is, so the ending of my story will probably not shock you. It’s about 6:15PM on a Tuesday evening and there’s a crowd of inked up guys, probably around 28-34 and one teeny tiny inked up gal hanging outside of the bar, you know, taking shots of whisky – nbd.
While Liz was inside one of these upstanding citizens starts talking to me. Trying to be polite I engaged in conversation, and trust me, it was quite worth my while. In the 2 minutes that I was talking to this guy, instead of learning his name, I learned that he dropped out of high school…well no, he didn’t drop out, parse, he was more court mandated to leave to serve his jail time. But, on the bright side, he got his GED in jail and now, at 30 years old, he is potentially pursuing a juvenile drug counseling career because “college aint no harder than high school, right?” -his words, not mine. I encouraged him to follow his dreams, and then he quickly changed the conversation over to be focused on me. He was asking all types of questions: Why do I run? How far did we go? How often do we run? Do we run for fun or to burn calories? I barely managed to start answering him when he took a step back and said “well I hope it’s not to burn calories because you look goooooddd”. Please take into account that I just finished running 7 miles and “good” is probably not the most appropriate word to describe me. He goes on to say “damn girl, look at them legs,” [man takes karate stance] “looks like you could just BAM [he does an air kick] kick a door right down.”
Now I’m not sure why types of judgement clouding substances this nice man was under the influence of, but considering that I’ve been complaining about my legs for some time now, I’ll take it. In fact, in hindsight I’m surprised that I didn’t ask him for his number or something – you know just to keep around as a complimentory friend. Who wouldn’t want that!? Weird, strange, creepy…I.don’t.care…if you’re going to stand there and tell me this when I’m dripping with sweat, you’re ok in my book!!