Death Wears Purple Tennis Shoes: Week 6

I went running on Saturday with my friend, Ashley, who is the friend who said that she ran so slow that she was running 12-minute miles and I laughed outloud. She’s been running with another half-marathoner friend who was out of town this weekend so I got to play substitute. We went to the Katy trail, which is very trendy and hipster and by downtown. Perhaps you might not associate the Katy trail with being cool, but from my point of view, if I’m not running in the alleyways in my neighborhood trying to get my dog to poop because I don’t have an extra poop bag, then I’m basically Beyonce.

Dear, sweet Ashley got a taste of my negative-momentum running style. She set the pace for about 30 seconds but then my physiology took over and we got passed by a woman in a wheelchair.  At one point, I looked over to tell her that she could run ahead of me and she had already run home, showered, applied her make-up, and was in the process of curling her eyebrows. 

Towards the end of our run, we saw a grown man sitting Indian style in the middle of the trail. It appeared that he had put gel in his hair and was trying to give himself a fauxhawk. I wasn’t sure what to think at first because, as I had mentioned before, the Katy trail is very hipster so they might do that sort of thing. Then, I remembered that time my husband had a heat stroke on the trail and so I asked the hipster if he needed help. He said that he was fine but he appreciated me asking.

So, I went running with another human being on the Katy trail, Ashley experienced my slow-motion ninja style of running, and we almost saved a hipster from heat death.

Dear Jesus, please make it cold so that might feasibly run faster than Betty White with a cold.

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