Dear Marathon Runners

4 Nov

Dear Marathon Runners,

The New York Marathon is Sunday, and I just want to say that

Y’ALL ARE CRAZY. 

We’re not meant to run that far. I’m pretty sure we never were, even when we were nomads. I’m pretty sure when we were nomads we were walking. What’s the rush when you’re just trying to get to the next patch of hard-scrabble barren land? You think mammoths move very fast? You think the buffalo roam at a speed of 9 min/mile? Those shaggy bastards are slow.

Not to mention you crazy junkies are running on asphalt. Or concrete. Or whatever special blend of rat-bones and ecstasy-urine and taxi tire treads that NY streets are made of. And that I’m pretty sure this year there are going to be “barefoot” runners in the crowd, and can I just say that I hope you’ve gotten your tetanus shots. 

Look, guys, I feel your pain– I went jogging yesterday and at about minute 3 of 5, I was all WHOOO ENDORPHINS too. Then I realized I had two minutes to go and I remembered that y’all are certifiably INSANE. 

Between the starting level of insanity, the endorphins, the nasty streets, and the polluted air, I’m pretty sure we know where the next zombie break-out is. And it’s either from the NY marathon or the collective casts of the Real Housewives franchise, when the combined collagen levels in their bodies surpass the amount of natural materials and something unexpected entirely expected happens. But whatever!

You all get to feel superior to the rest of us! Congratulations! I salute you from my floor. (The couch was kind of far from the door when I came in from my jog this morning).

Don’t forget to band-aid your nipples.

MM

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