The weekend long night runs have began. We're in for a hot summer--the first Saturday night in May and the humidity was off the chart?!?!? Getting in a 20-30 miler is just more fun with friends, and even more fun at night!!
So a dozen or so of us met at RunnersWorld, and ran from Quik Trip to Quik Trip, using the facilities as our aid stations and porta-johns. We hit em fast and split. No loitering, but we probably sweat all over their floors. Actually, the QT clerks seem to know what we're up to. One asked me how far into our run we were, and which ultra we were training for. He looked like a runner.
We also crashed a few houses. One Mitch Drummond was mysteriously missing from our entourage, so we invaded his front porch and banged on his door--he wasn't home, but I think we scared his daughter!! Ooops!!
We were soooo busted. We were caught on Mitch's security camera. We'll probably serve time for this--no doubt.
Mitch's security camera sucks--here is a much better picture--sure to send us all to prison.
From there, we ran another mile to another friend's house--who should have been with us. She was in her jammies, but welcomed us in and filled our water bottles. I dripped sweat on the kitchen floor. Then, we hit RunnersWorld, where about half of the crowd bowed out--and went to Village Inn. (The smart ones.) Rumor has it they were in the company of transvestites. Our dwindling group crashed one more house--where Deborah lives--in fact, she merely ran home and we followed. More water refills, more drippy sweat on hardwood floors--that sorta thing.
And one more good pic of the SuperMoon.
The night ended with our trip to Village Inn. Cross-dressers were in the parking lot, and a burlesquish looking guy who actually was once seen scantily clad as a bunny in a previous visit, entertained us while we endured the slowest breakfast service in the history of late-night breakfasts. Fun--and weird.
So a dozen or so of us met at RunnersWorld, and ran from Quik Trip to Quik Trip, using the facilities as our aid stations and porta-johns. We hit em fast and split. No loitering, but we probably sweat all over their floors. Actually, the QT clerks seem to know what we're up to. One asked me how far into our run we were, and which ultra we were training for. He looked like a runner.We also crashed a few houses. One Mitch Drummond was mysteriously missing from our entourage, so we invaded his front porch and banged on his door--he wasn't home, but I think we scared his daughter!! Ooops!!
We were soooo busted. We were caught on Mitch's security camera. We'll probably serve time for this--no doubt.
Mitch's security camera sucks--here is a much better picture--sure to send us all to prison.From there, we ran another mile to another friend's house--who should have been with us. She was in her jammies, but welcomed us in and filled our water bottles. I dripped sweat on the kitchen floor. Then, we hit RunnersWorld, where about half of the crowd bowed out--and went to Village Inn. (The smart ones.) Rumor has it they were in the company of transvestites. Our dwindling group crashed one more house--where Deborah lives--in fact, she merely ran home and we followed. More water refills, more drippy sweat on hardwood floors--that sorta thing.
And one more good pic of the SuperMoon.The night ended with our trip to Village Inn. Cross-dressers were in the parking lot, and a burlesquish looking guy who actually was once seen scantily clad as a bunny in a previous visit, entertained us while we endured the slowest breakfast service in the history of late-night breakfasts. Fun--and weird.
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