The scene: Lincoln Park, around 8:30 am Saturday morning, where we have just finished running my first-ever 5K

Pseudo: Wheeze.  Wheeze wheeze wheeze.  Holy crap I did it!  I might barf.

John: You did it! And faster than you thought you could!  Good job!

Pseudo: It WAS fast, wasn’t it?  Go me!

John: I knew it!

Pseudo: Knew what?

John: Knew you could go faster if you were pushed!

Pseudo: Pushed?

John: Like, if I went out at a faster pace than you were used to!

Pseudo: I thought you said you did that just at the beginning, to get us a better position in a less crowded part of the pack?

John: Well, yeah, that was part of it, but the other part was that I had a goal.

Pseudo: You had a goal?

John: But I didn’t want to tell you about it.

Pseudo: You had a secret goal?

John: I wanted us to run it in under 27 minutes.  I knew if I told you that, you’d freak out and say you couldn’t do it, so I decided to just run faster than you wanted and make you keep up.

Pseudo: So even though my self-proclaimed goal was just to finish, because this was my first-ever race and I was nervous, you decided to make it about speed anyway, though I’d specifically asked you not to?

John: Yep! I knew you could do it!

Pseudo: And back around the third mile when I felt like I might die and I was having trouble breathing and wondering why my inhaler didn’t seem to be working- that was you?   You were doing that ON PURPOSE?

John: Yeah! Isn’t it great? You ran so fast!

Pseudo: And now, when I’m sitting here trying my hardest not to barf, wondering why I’ve never felt like I needed to hurl at the end of a run before- you caused that? INTENTIONALLY?

John: Uh Huh! Awesome job, sweetie!

Pseudo: On second thought, maybe I want to barf after all.  ON YOU.

*****

(Um, except now that I’m recovered from the barfy feeling, I’m kind of hooked and want to run another one.  Stupid running, proving John right.)

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