Running With Dave P

Everybody that knows me knows this: I love shitty food. But I'm also trying to get in shape, cause well, I like skinny girls. I know that's awful, at least I'm honest. Wait a sec though, it's the fact that skinny girls only get with skinny guys and are making me work out like crazy that's truly awful. I guess skinny girls are great and awful. So it goes. Anyways, I've reached an impasse. I can't get any more in shape than I currently am without changing my diet, but I'm working out so hard that the only way I can satisfy the appetite I build up is with greasy Greek food. Or, I stuff myself with Greek food and look at myself, and see how disgusting Greek food makes me look so I think that I better go for a run later in the day, so that I don't ruin my chances of getting with a skinny girl. This latter set of circumstances was the context in which Dave P and his girlfriend, Patty, ran into me on Kelly Drive.

Dave: Snake? Yeeeeaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!

Me: Holy Shit! Holy Shit...

Dave: So what do you do?

Me: Well, I just came over to do something light. I just finished stuffing my tits with some greasy Greek chicken fingers and mozzarella cheese fries, smothered in ketchup of course...

Dave: ...

Me: So yeah, just something light. But hey, we should run together. I never get a chance to run with anybody, so let's do it.

Dave: Rad!

And we were off. We did a warm up along Boathouse Row, I'd say a nice 5.0 mph. Everything was great. I was running with Dave P. He talked about Daft Punk and Booka Shade and new tracks, and I tried really hard to not only remember all this stuff, but also to not burp too audibly. Dave exchanged pleasantries with almost everyone we passed, and they all either returned in kind or actually knew him. I was quickly reminded of how lucky Philadelphia is that New York or Chicago or Berlin hasn't taken this guy from us yet. Somehow unbeknownst to me our pace had shot all the way up from 5.0 to like 6.7 mph, which is cutting it pretty close to my limit. I had definitely begun to burp audibly, which prompted Dave to ask me, "How are you holding up? You know you're burping right?" "Me (gasp for breath), fine (another grasp, burp). You?" He was doing just fine.

We reached the agreed upon halfway point of the run, the 1 3/4 mile marker just past the grandstands, turned around, and began heading back. Harsh fate had actually granted me a second wind, or a little bit of digestion, and coming off the downhill from the grandstands I was actually able to up the pace a little to let's say 7.1 mph. Dave of course had no problem with that. Everything was fine until somewhere between the 1 1/4 and 1 mile markers. Suddenly, I felt my stomach simply drop. I began slowing down, panting, and burping, and what was worse, visibly holding Dave back. I dug deep and pressed on a little longer, however, right before the 3/4 marker I let out what would have been a room-clearing burp, accompanied by the extremely rare simultaneous fart, though thankfully the burp drowned it out. Dave looked frightfully over and I was already waving him to go ahead without me.

He thankfully took off like the Road Runner. I was slightly worried that maybe he had heard the simultaneous fart. As I jogged back along Boathouse Row though, I saw that Dave, now rejoined by Patty, was waiting for me. I frantically apologized for holding him up, and burping, and he replied in typical Dave fashion, "Dude, loved running with you, let's do it again. You should totally get some better running shoes though. I don't know how you run in those things. Hey, I'm going to this house party around here later tonight. You should come."




Btw, I'm going to this, so...

Download: Dan Bensons Project - (Skinny) Ladies Get On The Flo'