I spend a lot of time chasing men. I have a weekly date chasing one pack of men up and down hills. Don’t worry, Husband runs among them. They are too fast for me to keep up, but not so fast that I lose sight of them. It’s amusing to listen to the run club shout out, “looking good men …(pause)… and Runshorts”, as the men -and sometime later I- go by.
I sometimes breakaway on my walk back downhill, my massive frame pulled down more quickly by my friend (and foe) gravity, so I experience the thrill of being passed by the pack on nearly every hill repeat. I run in wait, wondering when they will surge by with a friendly little wave of acknowledgement. And pity. And glee.
I joke about tripping them as they merrily dash uphill, but I do not have the grace to trip others without tripping myself. Plus it would be embarrassing to trip someone and still be beaten by them to the top.
With all this fun I thought, I need more. So this week I added an evening of speed work into the mix. The lone female braving the rain-dampened oval with yet another pack of men. Chasing men in circles does little to improve my position. Looking good men …(pause)… and Runshorts.
So week after week I chase the men. Week after week they beat me to the finish line. All I can say is yay for gender-graded finish times.
Title Reference: The Weather Girls – It’s Raining Men. 1982.