October 29, 2011

A Few Good [Miles]

Son, we live in a world that has roads, and those roads have to be run by people with bibs. Who's gonna do it? You? You, couch potato? I have a greater responsibility than you could possibly fathom. You weep for the non-elites, and you curse the penguins. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know. That non-VIP porta potties, while tragic, probably save races. And my race..., while 3+ hours and incomprehensible to you, is somehow fun.
You don't want the truth because deep down in places you don't talk about at parties, you want me on that road, you need me on that road. We use words like carb load, pace group, chafed nipples. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent running before you wake up. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and complains about the roads and bridges I shut down, and then questions the manner in which I use them. I would rather you just said OORAH!, and went on your way.

Otherwise, I suggest you get a foot analysis, and buy a pair. Either way, I don't care what you think you are entitled to.