Sunset Hill 10K

This ditty got me through my personal panic on the winding trails of yesterday’s 10K:

Come and listen to my story about a gal named Nance, a past marathoner, now prefers to dance. And then one day she lined up to run a race – previous night’s dinner wrecked havoc on her face. 

Cramps that is, jabbed gut, urge to pee.

Well the first thing you know ole Nance is gettin’ scared. Inner voice said, “Nance, you’ll need new underwear!” Said, “Portajohny is the place you ought to be.” So she darted in the woods and she got her reverie.

Relief, that is. Bubblin’ bowels, coffee grounds.  

Editor’s note: This did not happen. I made it through the 6.2 miles without a pit stop. But let me tell you – the night before a race, skip the corn on the cob.

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