I. AM. IRONMAN….not really

This weekend was the Ironman Triathlon in Kona, HI.

It just so happens that we’re in Kona.

Just to be clear….I am not in the competition.

There are many, many very fit people here in Kona.

Just to be clear…I am not one of them.

Yeah…I can run a mile if I’m being chased by a homicidal maniac but generally, I prefer yoga and a brisk walk.

And on one such brisk walk pre-Ironman, I encountered a few of these very fit folks.

One in particular is single-handed responsible for damn-near ruining my vacation.

She was spectacular.

Tan.

Off-the-charts fit, running in ubershort shorts and a tight running top (sans bra fat spillover).

Washboard abs.

No visible sign of perspiration.

Nothing whatsoever jiggled.

She smiled cheerfully.

I shuffled past, my iPod ear buds barely able to stay put in my profusely sweating ears (yes, ears CAN sweat, smartasses).

I briefly considered shoving her into the razor-sharp lava rock minefield we were passing by…but….

…pity took over.

My hatred evaporated.

What might life be devoid of M & Ms and Vodka?

Oh, what a sad, sad, existence.

I minded my business and let her be…poor, poor deprived creature.

I thought about her many times as I sat on the beach, swathed in a sheet (two eyes cut out, of course), sunning my feet.

Who needs rock-hard abs when you’ve got a good pedicure, right?

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