You know that feeling when you’re not drinking on a Friday and you feel like you’re missing something? That’s what it feels like when you miss a day of running. Except running sucks and drinking is awesome.
I’m entered into a 10k on Saturday, at first I thought it meant 10 kegs and it doesn’t…it stands for 6.2 f*cking miles. And it starts in the wee hours of daylight. What demon bred a$$hole conjured up this running thing and running at a$$ crack of dawn?! I would rather be getting mounted by Steve, you don’t him but he’s a guy with a penis, than running 6.2 miles at 7am. So here I go gang, at 6am I’ll throw the alarm clock blaring White Snake, roll over and tell Steve to wish me good luck, put on my Champion running gear and hopefully run like the great beer run of 97′ when I snagged two bottles of MD 20/20.
