Some days you remember things. Blinks in time, sometimes mundane, sometimes interesting and other times hilarious. Today while fumbling home from an uncomfortable ride, I recalled one of the most random and bizarre running experiences of my life.
I’ve mentioned before that running and uncomfortable bathroom situations go hand in hand. There’s nothing you can do about that. Plan for the best, hope there’s no disaster is how it goes some days. Hell, that’s how it went for a decade with me.
On the date of this particular situation, I had ridden between 40-60 miles with my friends. As triathletes normally do, I had a 2-3 mile run planned for immediately after.
It was summer and wicked hot. I neither wanted to run nor was willing to not run, an amplified situation in our climate. There’s no upside to either. Run and suffer. Don’t run, suck, and suffer. Logically, I ran.
At this moment in time there was a construction site on the 2 mile course I was planning. It had been there for weeks and or months. This means there was a port o let on the course. PRAISE JESUS.
At 1.2 miles into a scheduled 2 mile, all out affair, I stepped into a bright yellow, plastic beacon of hope before there was an emergency.
Immediately I was engulfed with the stench of construction worke’sr fast food diet, and whoever else had an emergent situation. 90 degrees outside means 100+ in the POT OF GOLD>
Business done, I walked out. Shirtless, stunned and ready to jog home. That’s when it happened.
As I wandered out of the port a let, a 5-6 year old shirtless hispanic kid was standing directly in front of me. He looks up at me, and sticks his finger directly into my shirtless, sweaty, belly button.
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!!
I stand stunned like he might as well have kicked me in the groin. He says nothing and calmly walks off, leaving me to slog through a half mile or so wondering what the hell just happened.
There is no ending to this.
I still just wonder.