Bitches

So there's a group of men who regularly run together around lunch time here at work. One of those regulars is my division director. And these guys run, they don't jog. Many are the days that they basically blow by me and C, waving as they do. As I hit the 1 1/2 mile mark I see them. They're coming back in from a longer run, but if I turn now I'll have at least a tenth of a mile on them. GO GO GO! I try not to kill myself but I'm not slowing up-and then I hear the footfall. It's right at 1/2 mile later so I think I've done okay. The "fast" one pulls along side and says he's slowing to let the others catch him-there was a "hill". They all catch up, R says something nice-he's always nice-and they get a good 1/4 mile in front of me by the time I've traveled another 1/2 mile. I try to sprint while they're going around the outside of the loop and I go straight, I meet them at the head of the loop but I'm winded now and just look pitiful. They just glide by me like they're floating on clouds of cotton candy while I return looking more like a one legged duck. A wet one. Bitches.