Yesterday was another unenjoyable attempt at hill repeats. Eight 400 m repeats were scheduled and I got in four. Want to ask what caused me to cut my session short? Sure you do!
Little f*cking kids, that’s what! SERENITY FREAKIN’ NOW! (*Okay, breathe in, breathe out. And we’re good...*)
Let me explain. Like many universities, this place gets overrun during the summer months with programs for students of varying ages from all over the world, but particularly
The ones that do really bother me are the younger groups, the European high school and middle school-aged kids who are here attending English language programs. They are awful. God awful. Even worse than the
Last week, it was a massive group of French middle schoolers who were blocking the path. This week, I believe the little sods were Spanish. It was mostly the usual—taking up the whole of the path and not moving over to allow for oncoming traffic. But the kicker was when one of the little shits jokingly made a play at honking my breasts. I nearly decked him. I should have and probably would have had he not been with about six of his buddies. Factoring in the rage, I probably could have taken two of them, but definitely not a half dozen. I had to settle for shoulder-checking three of them as I passed by. That’s when I decided to scrap the rest of the session and head home to seethe in solitude.
Basically, I need to find a new hill. I only have one hill session left in my schedule before I switch over to speed work, but if I don’t find another hill location before next week, I may be forced to commit justifiable homicide. And I don’t look good in horizontally-striped jumpsuits, so I’d like to avoid that if at all possible.
I don’t want to be all Debbie Downer now, but this may be a harbinger of things to come. Southern European men are not the most subtle when it comes to hitting on women. Trust me, I’m related to some and I’ve witnessed their horrific attempts in person. It’s atrocious. My running in