Beware of the tall and skinny.

There I was, plopped on the couch dipping Tostitos into salsa and stuffing them one after another in mouth as I watched some quality VH1. Out of the corner of my eye I saw an instant message pop up on my lab top. I leaned over and picked it up to see the message. It was from my friend Dan.
"Hey want to go for a quick run later?" he asked.
"Hmmm," I thought to myself in mid-chew, "I did just eat a whole lot of chips." I looked down at the roll created where the chips had chosen to congregate and sit in my stomach, and thought hard about the fact I had to be fitted for a bridesmaid dress in 3 weeks. I swallowed my last chip and replied, "Ok, yeah sure."
Now let me explain something here. Dan and I were not on the same page when I agreed to this. When he said, "later," I assumed he meant 5 hours (sufficient time for chip digestion), when in reality he meant 2. That, however, paled in comparison to my misjudgement of how far he thought we would run. When I got over to his apartment he said, "How far were you thinking we should go?" I shrugged and before I could answer, "I dunno, like 2 miles," he said, "I was thinking around 4." My jaw dropped and the chips in my stomach did a back flip in rebellion. I was about to make a compromise of 3 miles when he said in his smug little way, "I dunno, I'm feeling pretty good today, but if you don't think you can go that far, we can do a shorter run."
Now he had done it. My stamina had been called into question and my pride was on the line.
"Oh I'll give it a shot," I said while my inner voice screamed You freakin idiot!
We head off at what I think is a pretty quick pace when he turns to me and says, "Would you like to pick it up yet or slow it down?" Which basically means, "This pace is pretty slow, can we go faster now?" But the chips in my stomach are saying, "Go any faster and you'll be face to face with us in 3 seconds." So I tell Dan our pace is just fine.
As we run along my inner monologue is no longer attempting to be a good sport about things. I start yelling at Dan in my head. Oh my God are you trying to kill me?! Stupid Mr. 6 ft whatever-I only weigh a hundred pounds-Dan! We approach a busy road and I get excited. Yes we'll be forced to stop for a moment, I can finally catch my breath and let the chips settle! As we reach the intersection I come to a dead halt but Dan just continues to jog in place, heaven forbid he lose a step today. Flippin' Rocky! I'm stopped for all of 2 seconds when he shouts, "We're good!" and goes darting across the street. The light hadn't even changed yet. Damn you!
We continue along and I keep glancing nervously at my watch. I know we're going faster than 10 minute miles although I'm trying my best to slowly decrease our speed without him noticing, and yet we are quickly approaching 20 minutes and still heading away from his apartment. For those of you mathematically challenged, when we reach 20 minutes it will mean that we've gone at least 2 miles, and we're still headed away from the apartment. Jerkstore! 4 miles my ass! My eyes begin looking for a good place to suggest a turn around, but I see that he's hell bent on making it to Presque Isle Park. We continue along the bike path and I keep debating suggesting pulling off to the side and stopping to stretch, but my pride gets the better of me. I begin to wonder if I might die out there. 20 minutes has come and gone and we are still headed away from the apartment and I start to will away my belongings. Cheryl and Liz can divide my Cubs stuff between themselves, Meghan can have my CD's, Ryne can have my truck (since his current car is a POS), Aimee and Tom can have...
"We're good!" Dan yells as he darts across another street without skipping a step. Jackass!
We approach the entrance sign to Presque Isle Park and I anticipate the turn around. We run right past it. I debate between bursting into tears or faking a heart attack.
"How you holding up?" he asks me without a hint of exhaustion in his voice.
I hate you! If I live through this I'm going to come after you with a baseball bat!
"I'm good," I say as I gasp for air.
We pass through the archway into the park and he doesn't even slow down, but I had, had enough so I slowly put on the breaks. He notices and says, "Oh should we turn around?"
F yeah we should turn around you skinny little...(I went on for quite some time here)...Prefontaine wannabe. "Yes let's turn around."
"Because we can keep going if you want."
I glance down at my watch which is now saying 25 minutes, so yeah we're talking at least 2.5 miles here, meaning a total round trip of at least 5 miles. "No let's turn around." I say, my voice ringing with desperation.
He laughs.
Asshole. I'll cut you!
We pass a drinking fountain on our way back and Dan asks, "Want a drink?" Good man!
We both stop and take a sip, but the entire time he is still somehow jogging. As in he's drinking from the drinking fountain and still jogging. Who is this guy? I stagger away from the drinking fountain and am in the process of trying to convince my legs that they need to start running again when I notice Dan jumping up and down and wheeling his legs around in a bicycle motion. Evil bad man!
Not once after the drinking fountain did we ever stop again, not once at each busy road did we ever skip a step because somehow "we" were "good" at every single street. I distinctly remember as we crossed over the last busy street seeing a white lumina coming down the street just as I reached the other side. "You're 10 seconds too late you jerk! You could have hit me and put me out of my misery!"
I start to sense that we are within five minutes of the end of this hellish ride, and I begin to thank God because my legs are screaming and my asthma is reaching its peak. Dan chooses this moment to turn to me and say, "I usually end my runs with some sprints and then a cool down."
Oh holy hell! With one eyebrow raised, an ounce and a half of oxygen left in my lungs, I wheeze and say, "Go right ahead, I'll meet you at your apartment." With that he takes off sprinting. Seriously, who is this guy? I come off the bike path and look at my watch which now reads "51 minutes." Over 5 miles! I didn't sign on for this shit. I look ahead and see that Dan is now walking. Thank you God! I stop and I walk. Dan waits for me to catch up and when we are about 200 meters away from my truck he asks, "Do you want to do lunges to your truck?"
In the words of Raineesha Williams, 'Does hell go with no?!'
"I can't do lunges that far."
"Ok we'll just do it for a little bit."
My pride somehow still exists and I begin to do lunges. I stop after about 20 feet of that mess, and Dan of course continues. I walk along side of him for a while feeling stupid, and so I try to start up again. I go down once and feel my hamstring tear in rebellion. I can't move. That's it! I officially hate you! We are no longer friends! You will carry me the rest of the way.
I must have yelped out in pain when my hamstring pulled because Dan was very concerned and kept asking me if I was ok. He obviously can't read thoughts though because he did not once attempt to carry me.
We stand outside his apartment building and Dan wipes away the single bead of sweat that has formed on his forehead, while I ring out my shirt, and he asks, "Do you want to go run again tomorrow morning?"
I hope you choke on your ego Twigman! "We'll see."
BEWARE OF THE TALL AND SKINNY!