I got about two blocks past the old Tom Pickle spread on the Ridge Road Loop and had to stop to sit on the curb. I felt feint. That persuaded me to take a left on F Street and walk the fuck home. I ran and walked the first 2 miles in 25:52, and probably covered about 3.5 miles. Counting golf, I walked, ran, and dragged golf clubs a total of 15 miles on Monday and Tuesday.
Fuck it. I just called Tim Cooper. I'm going two-thigh basket with fried okra and mashed potatoes and creamed gravy and might eat some goddamned pie at Paul's. No. No. I'm also going to eat an order of fried pickles. You know, for the sake of having run past the old Pickle spread a few minutes ago.
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