The Running Man

What is it about my body that makes it decide to get minor aches and pains whenever I decide to go jogging? Today, my right knee started acting up as I walked to the park for the morning's jog. Maybe that was just a sign of things to come.

After letting myself travel back in time to the good old days of midget league football by doing the same drill we did (up the steep hill, back down, rinse, repeat), I was feeling surprisingly good. Nobody cares enough about that joke of a park to bother trimming the tree, so I got pine tree branches in the face once I got up to the top of the little, yet steep, hill whether I ducked or not.

Continuing on my walk or, rather, jog down memory lane, I did two laps around the football field. Not long later, I felt I'd finish the trifecta by going up Suicide Hill, just like we did at the end of each practice. Feeling frisky, I wanted to see how far I could throw my water bottle. I'd done it before with disappointing results that made me feel like less of a man, so I wanted to best myself.

Terrible idea.

But it was good for a laugh.

As soon as I released the bottle, I knew it was a bad idea. In flight, it looked like the tab that holds the water in when you aren't drinking any came undone and water started pouring out before it made impact. Its impact, though, was the spectacle of the day. Down it came and burst like a frag grenade.

I kid you not.

Water sprayed out in a two foot radius and all that was left of the top of the bottle were teeny pieces of plastic. The bottom was mostly intact, but there was obviously no salvaging that bottle of water.

Tried the park's water fountain, but the water flow is depressingly low and the water tastes metallic. Gave up soon after because of lack of water, but not before finding another hill to climb (I wasn't tackling Suicide Hill without my water bottle, mind you).