It had come to my attention that I had NOT posted an account of my January birthday run. While it pales in comparison to Mo’s upcoming birthday run in size and scope, it was no doubt, jam-packed with adventure! Enjoy!
KINGS MOUNTAIN TRAIL, JAN 8, 2010 – A cryptic, eleventh-hour text should have tipped us to her Friday plans. “Too much to do,” it read, “Can’t make Saturday’s run. You’ll have other birthdays – get over yourself.” Wow. But seeing as it was indeed my birthday, my spirits would not be dashed even by the most curt and callous of text messages. No, I let those remarks roll like “The Beast” on a stretch of downhill trail.
So it would be that I would face the early morning chill on Kings Mountain sans “The Beast” (a/k/a Melinda – see exhibit “A” above.), but in the sober company of Betsy, Julia and Ashleigh. Sober, indeed! But, I digress.
With the sure-sighted navigation of Julia and myself, we entered the park just before eight. It was then we had to talk Betsy down from her grand money-saving plan of stiffing the park for its entry fee; you know those bank people. “Dude! You really think a ranger’s gonna be out here checking parking tickets today?? It’s 14 +#%ing degrees out here!” The cold weather and an evening of red wine tend to make her a bit, how should we say… testy. After the ladies made several costume changes, Julia refusing to wear an extra set of mittens since they clashed with her ensemble; Ashleigh wondering if the BatGirl bra she was wearing would chafe her like the last time, and Betsy adjusting the dimmers to “low beam”, we finally began running.
You’ve likely heard the term “bitch slap”, but have you ever heard of “bitch running?” Well, I can proudly say, we’ve coined that one now. Over the first few miles, I believe everyone was indeed complaining about the cold. Some more so than others, right J.D.? After all, it was 14F. And from behind me came this news: “At least Melinda had the good sense to get herself good and hammered last night and skip this stupid crap!” And it was then, the beans were spilled. Not the Taco Bell kind, mind you. That would come later. Upon the revelation that Melinda’s so-called “to do list” was topped with “drink until I am nearly blind”, I spent the remainder of the miles in stunned silence, separating myself from the girls so as not to say something I might regret. Only Ashleigh gave pursuit, offering watered-down excuses on behalf of “The Beast”. “Maybe she just got ‘overserved’… you know she only drinks that much on Sunday; maybe her calendar was wrong.” It was of no use the damage had been done. I had been cut to the core.
Arriving back at the car, we waited a full hour and a half for Julia and Betsy to return. “One of ‘em had better be dead!” barked Ashleigh. After her repeated berating of our running mates, I reminded Ashleigh of just how bad she’d feel if that were indeed the case. “Whatever” she popped back. And as her snappy retort bounced from the empty woods, so did Betsy and Julia. Their delay caused by what could only be called a “surprise attack” from a mother bear who came charging from the brush, knocking Betsy to her knees and leaving Julia to scare the thing from the path using her Jedi mind powers. Blah, blah, blah. Skinned knees, weepy eyes. Who gives a crap about all that mess. When they stopped blubbering, we all had cake – lots and lots of cake! Oh yeah! Happy Birthday to me!