Chapter 22
Just Ask Dallas
Note: The descriptions and accounts in these stories are fictional and do not portray any actual people or events.
I was looking forward to my first official Marathon run, in my home town to boot. Suzanne had sent in my registration for the race and attested to a qualifying time to get me registered for the race, I had no clue how. Bigun had picked up our race packets for us yesterday, and Lara and Suzanne argued about attaching my number to my 'Team Robbie' jersey properly, but finally decided that the rules prevented that and they would just put the official race shirt on over my jersey. I needed the extra layer, anyway, because it was cold and windy this morning. Grandma served up a very early breakfast of bacon, sausage, and lots of buttermilk pancakes full of pecans: the best kind of 'carbo-loading' there is. Suzanne was enthusiastically downing them almost as fast as I was, and praising my Grandma's cooking skills in between bites.
Finally she polished off her last helping, and looked at me funny. "By the way, Robbie, when we get back to Austin tonight we are invited to Strelsa and Günter's for dinner. I figured that should be relatively restful for you, after all your race exertions, without being too boring! Don't you think?" She put her tongue up on her upper lip and leered at me. Lara giggled and Suzanne tried to kick her under the table. Did Lara know about her plan?
Alley and Bigun showed up to accompany us to the starting point downtown, and Grandma insisted in sending Eldee along for security, giving her a leash to comply with the local law, even though that dog off leash was more reliable than any thousand other dogs on. Bigun, Lara and Millie would constitute my cheering section, and Jay would join them down there, although I assumed that all his attention would be on Millie, rather than me. Good call, buddy. I would rely on Suzanne for pacing and race tips and she had somehow already gerrymandered her starting group such that she assured me she would be able to join me right away, despite the staggered start.
The rest of the drive down and final check in was kind of a blur, and suddenly I was doing my stretching and warm ups and waiting for the starting signal. Eldee stayed right on Lara's left at all times and sniffed and checkout out everything and everybody, but raised no alarms. Suzanne's group was starting just a few minutes behind mine, which was certainly a tribute to blatant sexism and ignorance, given our relative running capabilities. There was no danger of getting lost, especially for the first few miles, as the streets were lined with signs and spectators. Suddenly we were off. We left Main Street behind and went by a children's hospital that I knew Sapiento had made a big donation to.
I had studied the route briefly and knew many of the major landmarks along it. It was basically a big loop from downtown, out to White Rock Lake, all the way around the lake, and then back downtown to finish at the Convention Center. When I was a little kid, we used to go to White Rock Lake for picnics and it seemed like a long drive to a whole 'nother country to me. It was cool for me to think that I could now run all the way from downtown, to the lake, and back. I was officially a big boy now, if I made it. Or maybe I was just too big for my britches? We had started out heading west, which confused me a little, but then we turned back east and north.
As we passed by the Turtle Creek neighborhood, a very expensive area very close to downtown, I pointed out to Suzanne the direction of Lara's dad's house. There, condos were often $2M or more and most homes $4M or more, and some of the older homes were being torn down and 'gentrified' to $20M or more. When I was a little kid, we used to go to a hotel in an historic old house there for dinner on my mother's birthday or when my dad closed a big deal. Lara's house was pretty close to the old mansion, now renamed and even ritzier than ever, but Lara said that their house was really on the 'wrong side of the tracks' so that her dad could be walking distance from the heliport. We stayed on course for White Rock Lake. It was pretty windy, wasn't it?
We were getting very close to my old neighborhood and passed just a block from Alley's old house, and then we went by Greenville Avenue and began climbing a gradual rise, moving toward the north end of the lake. Suzanne said we just crossed the halfway point, and I felt pretty good. I suddenly remembered, or at least my cock remembered, what happened the last time I finished a long distance run. Down boy! Suzanne told me that marathoner's often have post-race rituals: they drink a certain beer, recite a favorite poem, or dance to a favorite song. I wondered if any did a ritual sexual submission to two very hot women. I bet they would if they could. Should I?
We passed around the east side of the lake going south and turned west and then rounded the lake again and north to get back on the route toward downtown, climbing another damnable hill. Suddenly we were surrounded by Dolly Parton impersonators. WTF? Was this some kind of message from fate to me that submitting again was going to turn me into a female impersonator? Didn't Dolly herself once enter a Dolly impersonator contest and lose? Did that mean I was losing myself by submitting? I was starting to get a little silly. I was not paying attention to the pace, relying on Suzanne, but it did not seem like that many people had passed us. I expected to see a lot of them pass me. There was a gaggle of maybe 100 runners strung out in front of us, and I had lost sight of the ones way out in front about the time Suzanne said we reached the halfway point. Was that good or bad?
Finally we turned left again which meant we were headed west and back toward town. We went close to Lakewood, one of the two places where my dad forced me to learn to play golf, a required career skill, he said. I like tennis better, you see. Then I recognized Swiss Avenue, and then we could see the skyline clearly. Suddenly we were getting close to downtown, and I hit the wall. This was just like being on that treadmill at maximum tilt, except those buildings looked miles and miles away. Why was this happening so much sooner than when I did this distance in Austin? Maybe there actually was something badly wrong with my metabolism. I decided to treat it like Duke Knorr had told me to, don't worry if it hurts: just keep going until they tell you to stop. It hurt. Darth Vader began breathing for me, and Suzanne was saying something but I couldn't quite make it out. I was glad she was beside me, but it might be better if she was in front of me so I could just focus on her ass. Damn she has a nice ass. Someone started playing the tom-toms again, fast, and even louder than Darth Vader was breathing. I couldn't decide if my legs or my chest hurt worse.
We turned left again and I think I saw a sign with a G. Gee! We crossed Main Street. Wasn't that close to where we started? There were some trees, and a bunch of people, and then, was that the convention center? Suzanne said something else, but the tom-toms completely drowned her out. A bunch of people were jumping and moving their mouths, but no sound came out. Some photo flashes went off, right in front of me. Should I stop? No! Keep going. Finally Suzanne was pulling on me, and everyone in front of me was stopping. I guess I shouldn't run them over. Did they hurt as much as I did? I just want to lie down, but Suzanne won't let me. She's shaking me! Trying to make me your little bitch, huh, bitch? Not me, baby, I won that tennis match, not you! Wait a minute, wrong girl. Which girl is the right girl? Who do I thrust, or ah, trust? Whom?
There was some skinny Russian looking idiot up on a platform. He looked a lot like Pavel! Where's my racket? There were two other guys up there with him, but they didn't look like Russians or caterers. They were skinny black guys waving little red, black and green flags. Suddenly someone was talking loud enough for me to hear them. "Keep walking Robbie, don't stop yet!" Suzanne handed me something.
