Real Men/Women of Genius #96

[Caution: This in no way refers to our most beloved newest newlywed Paige Dunmore, who *may* have misperceived some sort of “veiled threat” (ha ha) that on this particular Friday she might find herself being written about here. But no. She is much too young. But–if she continues to plan anything running-club-related like she handled the non-publicity surrounding her own wedding–in another 30 years she’ll qualify. 🙂 Keep smiling, everyone! Hey, it’s Bad Joke Friday!!]

Ingelhook Wineries present…

REAL WOMEN OF GENIUS

{Re-al gals of geeeeeene-yuss!}

Today we raise our goblet to you, Mrs. Go-To Arranger of All Events Related to Your Running Club.

{Misssssus “How in the Worrrrrrrrrrrr-rld Did-Weee-E-ver-Get-A-long With-out Yooooooou?”}

Only you could schedule an upcoming 25-mile group long run, point-to-point from the mountains to the prairie, by spotting *one* Volkswagen Beetle at the terminus to haul *all* your thirty-odd club members back to the trailhead. But then on your appointed Saturday, three more vanloads show up at the start.

{“We’rrrrrrrre skinnnnnnn-ny; weeeeeeeeeee can squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze in!”}

Peeps text or phone you for advice all the time, calling upon your leadership skills, completely expecting you to lead them to the Promised Land–especially along new trails that even you haven’t ever seen before. This doesn’t stop you, of course, from giving your advice.

{“It’s bettttttt-ter for long runs to uuuuuuuuuuuuse on-lyyyy hand-helds!”}

And your advice and planning skills run the gamut from carpooling to races, to pizza parties celebrating this year’s Boston qualifiers. Except you sometimes forget gasoline for your Beetle and invite marathoners who haven’t qualified for Boston since 1966. Meanwhile the party venue turns out to be “closed for remodeling” and no one from your club has in fact run a marathon this year. They are all still stuck out there in the prairie, at your long run’s terminus, waiting for a ride.

{“Sommmmmmmmmmmmmmme day our prinnnnnnnnnnnnce will come!”}

Special occasions? Needing your help and advice? Please. Just say no. We realize no one else could possibly do it like you can, but maybe have your club members call “Ghostbusters” instead. They’ll do them just as much good, and prevent future social disasters from haunting their memory for decades to come.

{“Whoooo ya gon-na cawlllllllllll?”}

But go ahead anyway and pop that cork out of your special running-club-discounted bottle of White Zinfandel–arranged by you at the liquor store–O Mrs. Group-On Susie, and try to get everybody to drink some before anybody discovers that, once again, you’re expecting 250 milliliters of fluids to hydrate seventy-five members of your club.

{Misssssssus Go-To A-rraaaaaan-ger of Alllllllllll E-vents Reeee-laaa-ted to Your Runnnn-ning Club!!}

White Zinfandel yuppie wine: we don’t drink it ourselves; we’d rather guzzle beer.

( O_O )

Yours troubly,
The Troubadour

Book Review:
http://tinyurl.com/VirginAndVeteran.

Better Resource:
http://thefuntimesguide.com/2004/10/bud_light_real.php.

Yankee Folly of The Day:
In my own local (Indiana) running club, if it weren’t for the women shouldering ALL the responsibilities, the club would cease to exist. It makes us wonder yet again, besides plucking, just what in the heck ARE men good for anyway? For ideas, take another look at the United States Government.