the trots. they happen.

If you haven’t read this yet, you should. Just sayin.

As for our Thanksgiving # 2…

It started with Turkey Trot # 2. They had chip timing and everything…or something like that. We’re still not entirely sure if we were being timed or were on probation…

The race course went down country roads and through neighborhoods. Where, exactly? Shit…I couldn’t even tell you how we got there if I wanted to…it’s all roads and trees and random houses to me. Ask Evelyn, the GPS.

In the neighborhood section we were almost run right the hell over by an irate woman in a minivan. Apparently, she had somewhere she needed to go and apparently some runner dude decided that wasn’t happening. He ran right along beside her, yelling into her drivers side window all, “Stop your car, asshole! This is a race…which means you need to park your fat fucking self on the curb and WAIT.”

True story.

Anyway, after the police (yes, the police) stopped her at the end of the neighborhood, everyone was fairly complacent until we hit the end of the race where the course squeezes down into a 2 foot wide muddy, downhill, root infested track where Tim and I almost ended up on our asses about 17 times in the span of 30 seconds – it was THAT bad.

(notice how I said *almost* which means: it didn’t happen)

We finished without going the wrong direction (yay us!), ate a cookie and an apple (well, Tim had a banana, but, whatever) and then drove back to his parents house to participate in the gluttony that was to be spread out over the remainder of the day.

This is us, post-race and pre-feast.

We totally went the right way. And we burned calories, which means more food. Yay! We’re pretty sure we’re awesome.