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June 18, 2006
The Ballad of the Beer-Handled Boy
I'm fresh off the airplane from a trip to Chicago, IL, where my family held its annual family reunion. I know there are many people who run in Chicago. In fact, I read several blogs of Chicago-area runners. However, I have always struggled with getting good runs in good places in Chicago. I know part of my problem is where we always stay, in proximity to our family, and that this area isn't too conducive to running. I know the other part of the problem is that my running is always limited to a very small window of time that I have to squeeze in before and/or after the chaos that is a day with my family, so I never have time to explore new running routes. This weekend was no exception. My routes were rather limited.
My first morning of running in Chicago, I've decided to run loops around a mall across the street. There are no cars around at this time of the morning, and the loop seems to be about exactly 1 mile. I was standing in the road, tying my shoes and starting my music when another runner came trotting by. This is the Beer-Handled Boy. I never got a good look at him to know if he was a boy or a man, but he was shirtless and running in a pair of knee-length basketball shorts. He had these love/beer handles bouncing on his sides as he ran, thus the origins of his pseudonym. My intent is not to make fun of this man only for his appearance. Rather, the name is catchy, and I'm hoping that you'll read on to find out exactly why I'm making fun of him. It appeared if he had the same running plan, running laps around the mall.
Loop 1. I fell in a distance behind Beer-Handled Boy and began running, and a few moments later I passed him. Now I'm running in front of Beer-Handled Boy. Beer-Handled Boy just won't give up, though. Through my iPod music, I can hear his footfalls and breaths behind me. Somewhere near the end of Loop 1, he passes me in a surge.
Loop 2. Beer-Handled Boy has put a little distance between us in his surge, but he loses ground quickly when he tires and slows back down. I pass Beer-Handled Boy again. For much of Loop 2, I again listened to Beer-Handled Boy's noises at my back.
Loop 3. Beer-Handled Boy passes again in a much more solid surge, and puts at least 30 meters between us before settling into a pace similar to mine. For 3/4 of this loop, he maintains that distance. Then, we begin to curve through some trees, and he disappears momentarily from view. When I can see him again, he's walking and he's looking back at me. As soon as he sees me, he takes off running. In one final sprint of about 150 meters, he runs way out there before stopping at his car, doubled over to catch his breath. I can't help it, I'm visibly laughing. The whole scene is ridiculous. When I pass by him, he tosses me a head knod, and I toss him back a comment. "You must be pretty proud to have beat a girl on her easy run." He just stood there looking at me.
Loop 4. I'm all alone out there, finally. When I come around the curve to where his car was, he's still there. He's leaned against his car, his beer-handles spilling over the waist of his shorts, drinking Gatorade. He says, "I admit it, I got a better workout with you here." I again laugh visibly, and also manage to thank him.
Loop 5. I'm still all alone out there. Again, I come by his car, and he's still there. "How far are you running?" he asks. "Until I wilt in his humidity." I answer and keep running.
Loop 6. My last loop. He's still there. He's all cooled off now, not so sweaty looking that I think he's going to have a heart attack anymore. As I go by him, he says, "My 3 lap average pace was faster than your 6 lap average pace." "You're a stud." I answer.
What's up with that?
Posted by Meghan at June 18, 2006 12:56 PM
Comments
I think many of us have experienced some version of this at one point or another. I could almost sympathize with Beer-Handled Boy until his last comment. I'm glad he stuck around to time you.
I saw my parents this past weekend and they had just returned from Yellowstone. I didn't realize they were going there (I just knew they were in Montana for a wedding and that they were going to travel to various other places). They told some story about travel companions of theirs going out to dinner one night and meeting these really nice guys at a bar who bought them a drink and left a good impression. They found out the following day that those two guys had robbed a bank earlier in the day or something. Perhaps you heard about it... I wonder if they were anywhere near where you live/work. I told them I know someone who works there...but it seemed to complicated to bother mentioning that I've never actually met you before :-)
I hope the family reunion went well!
Posted by: Alison at June 19, 2006 11:18 AM
I'll take "How NOT to impress women" for $1000, Alex!
My condolences.
Posted by: warren at June 22, 2006 11:16 AM