Hiccups Suck

I hate hiccups. I loathe them more than anything that you can name. When I get the hiccups I get them bad. My wife can attest to it, I sound like I’m dying. I hiccup, I burp, I make gagging noises, I gasp for air, and somewhere in between all that sexiness I shout and yell because I HATE hiccups. Fortunately, I’ve never had to deal with the hiccups during a run, at least until this past weekend and let me tell you that it was more annoying than a “he went to Jared” commercial.

They probably only lasted for a quarter mile, but it was the worst quarter mile of my running career. It definitely made my long run a Volkswagen Jetta Run. It’s been a while since I had a VW Jetta run so I guess I was due for one.

Shortly after my bout with the hiccups I came to a crosswalk where I paused for a few seconds while waiting on the walk signal. As I waited I noticed an attractive brunette was following me down the trail towards the crosswalk, I wondered if she had witnessed the idiotic convulsions and gyrations caused by my refusal to stop and deal with the hiccups. While she was still 20 meters away I got the walk signal and crossed the street.

I found myself faced with a dilemma because the attractive brunette would certainly make it across the street after me and she appeared to be running a little faster than I was. No doubt she had been gaining on me for quite some time. My ego was prompting me to speed up so that I wouldn’t get “chicked,” but my increase in pace would have been obvious to her and she might have thought that I was being rude. It also occurred to me that my ego might not ever recover if I increased my pace and still got “chicked.” After weighing all my options I actually slowed my pace to allow her to pass me. Using the phrase “allow her to pass me” significantly boosts my ego.

She never did pass me though. I ran at a slower pace for a half a mile and she seemed to remain 20 meters behind me. Figuring that I had misread her pace, I ramped back up to the 9:15 pace that I had been running at and assumed I was leaving her behind. A couple more miles passed and I came to part of the trail that almost doubles back on itself which allowed me to see that she was still 20 meters behind me, she was matching my pace. My ego and I agreed that I needed to throw in a half mile interval, which I ran at a pace somewhere around 7:45 before slowing back to my original pace. Slightly winded, I glanced over my shoulder to find the brunette 40-50 meters back and gaining quickly. Somewhere before I got home she must have taken a different path, because this was the last I saw her.

To be honest I was a little perturbed at her behavior and if the roles had been reversed I would have certainly expected a face full of pepper spray. I was trying desperately to figure out what she was up to when it suddenly hit me. It was a warm day and I was wearing shorts; she was simply admiring the view from back there. It made perfect sense to me and my ego. It is a really nice view, I only wish that I could see it more often and without the aid of a mirror.