Mr. Beck’s evocative text…
Then the overdressed fitness-jogger types carrying gallon jugs of water or grog, huffing like crazy and staring grimly at the ground. I’m not sure if I was last, but I do know that my not-so-novel strategy of trying to escape my morass of perambulatory incompetence by swinging my arms in furious, powerful arcs resebling George Foreman uppercuts didn’t do shit for my pace or standing.
…deserves an illustration:
There are three more panels of this cartoon, a rare Bushwellian original, but there are bad words and stuff used in the dialogue. Wouldn’t want to offend any delicate sensibilities, but if you beg, I might just edit this post and add them.
Begging: always a successful tactic! Just ask my old (and they are now) high school boyfriends!