I couldn't figure out why people were giving me strange looks on the trail as I ran. I looked down at myself: all body parts that were supposed to be covered were covered. No gratuitous boob. No spare tire spillage. No peephole views to nether parts. No booger leakage. I was okay. So I just kept running and sweating and sizzling under the hot Florida sun (it was 87 degrees when I ran - wrong, wrong, wrong).
I wiped my brow and noticed the sweat was, well, PINK. And I didn't realize just how bad I looked until I got home, looked in the mirror, and saw that the hair dye I'd put in my hair the previous night must not have been completely washed out, because now, I had certainly sweated it out, all in little rivulets down my face, neck, and chest. And because red is my hair dye color of choice - "Rosewood", I believe it was called - the dye itself is the color of dark red blood. So I was running along Cady Way looking like the one-woman reenactment of Platoon. Nice.
I mean, why enjoy a boring walk down the trail when you can see sweating carnage run right past you?
1 comment:
That is AWESOME!!!
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