The running of the pigs. By J. Sleestaxx

In my area we have a very affluent neighborhood/development carved out of the woods
10' easements of dense packed trees between street and sidewalk and then between sidewalk and development including strip centers, gas stations, and houses.
This is a beautiful but it comes with a price. You do not know where anything is and if you own a business you have got spend a fortune on neighborhood flyers instead of road signage.
I like it and if I could afford to live in some of these neighborhoods I would. I like trees. I am not a tree hugger though I just like trees.
Any ways along in these trees is sidewalks and these sidewalks are mapped out into loops or tracks so that one can run, walk or bike and know about how much they have traveled.
I was doing some road work. Look at me trying to make it sound all important. Since I have quit smoking I have decided that I want to run a marathon. I know I have to start slow so I decided that by thanksgiving I will be ready to run a 5 or a three mile. My real goal is to run the 5 in 6.5 6.75 minutes or the 3 in sub 6.
I have found that treadmill running is very very different that road running. In the gym I can run 3 miles, but on the road well very very different. I have this crazy pace that left alone I will try to run and it is like a 7.5 minute mile pace. Do not ask me why it is just the comfortable pace at which my body does.
So I am running on this 2.6mile track in the woods after dark. I have run at least a mile without stopping and I am feeling the road in my shins. But I keep going thinking that the next block I will stop. I know I am lying to myself but it gets me to the next block.
I am on a long stretch of wooded space and I hear noises in the brush. I figure a squirrel or a raccoon but all of a sudden out charges a little pig, did I mention that my state is full of feral pigs/hogs. No seriously they tear up your front yard looking for truffles unless you have a dog. This piglet is about the size of a miniature pug and I jump it, no big deal right?? Wrong this piglet has a brother who decides to jump out just in front of me and I land on this pig it squeals and five more charge out of the brush. I stumble and kick them and trip over them and they all start squealing. I yell shit! God damn it! And all of a sudden this big mother fucking hog comes out of the brush at me all snorting smoke and breathing fire and calling my name, "John Sleestaxx you have done it now. You sir are going to hell." it says.
Aw fuck!
Lasers start shooting out of its eyes and sparks are flying from its little piggy feet as he bears down on me.
I turn to run, my chest a tight mass of smoker lung and pain. My legs are now the consistency of taffy.
I start to run and the pig starts to run, screaming, "To market, to market, I got your fat pig here bitch."
Pigs can run 11 miles an hour I have already run maybe two miles and I was about to use the last .6 miles for cool down.
I have tears in my eyes I know that I am going to die if my legs do not start to run. I am going to die and they will find my body a torn ragged mess of pig left over’s. The doctor was right pork was going to kill me. Good bye world shit!!!!
Now I have this pig, whose name was not Jody but was a talking pig none the less, bearing down on my old fat smoker ass for stomping on her babies.
I was going to die. Yes I was going to die. I ran all the way to where my truck was parked and leapt into the truck bed and I expected the pig to run into my truck bumper. But nothing happened. I turned around placed my hands on my knees and wheezed and coughed phlegm spit snot I felt my heart it had stopped beating when the fucking bacon spoke my name, and apparently had not restarted beating yet. My vision faded and I though I was going to pass out.
But no pig, I had out run the monster.
I was faster that the evil pig from hell. I looked down I had blood on my foot and my knees were skinned and my hand had road rash. But I had made it! I was alive and I was not going to ever ever run that track at night again.
I danced in my truck bed the dance of victory. I whooped and hollered I even w00ted once and cried the tears of joy. Adding to the total of 4 times I have wept with joy.
I fell to my knees and waited for the strength to come back so I could go home.
Oh my time something like 25 minutes for the whole trip.

Currently reading

Like A Monkey With A Handgun
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx
Release date: By 3 December, 2007

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