Friday, August 18, 2006

"Yer ntttth"...

slurred the drunk guy at me as I ran past his swaying body in the middle of the street. I knew he said something but didn't pause to find out what.

He blurted a little more clearly, "Yer nuts" and to emphasize his point threw his beer bottle at me as I made my way down the street.

He didn't hit me. Fortunately his aim was off and I was a moving target. He only managed to break the bottle on the street behind me, the white foam splashing up the back of my legs.

I guess I should thank him, he probably shaved a couple of seconds off my time. I wonder if he wants a job heckling me from the sidelines during my next race?

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