Another crotch related dilemma

Before my run, looking unlikely to puke at this point

Second run 8/4/11 woods near Methlick, Aberdeenshire

Starting out – An azure sky above, untrammelled land below, I’m going off-road, running through the kind of land that Cormac McCarthy writes about! Rugged, unkempt country, mottled paths and snowmelt streams. Not a Burger King in sight and no phone signal. I am Grizzly Man!
200 metres in – Did I drink enough water today? Am I dehydrated?
1 mile in – I’m dizzy. What if I faint here? I’m in the countryside, nobody would know! I could be dead for days before a dog walker finds me!
1.5 miles in – I’d like to be found by a Labrador or a Boxer, not a little yappy dog that would sniff my crotch and scamper off.
2 miles – I’m knelt down, drinking from stream like a weird goat or something. The water feels amazing, crisp, cool, not from a tap. I splash it over my face and I’m ready to go again, confident that I won’t faint, die and be happened upon by a Corgi.

Linford Christie - what a cock (double entendre intended)

3 miles – Getting into the village, sense of trepidation – what if someone stares at my crotch again? I want to avoid that, but how can you avoid it without somehow drawing attention to the area in the first place? Now I know how Linford Christie felt. Maybe next time I’ll go out in a lycra skeleton costume.
3.2 miles – Home and feeling blissed out, but also thirsty and, weirdly, craving chocolate.

After my run and looking like I've just fled from a crime scene or something


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