Marathon runners are the worst. We hold this truth to be self-evident... and yet? Sometimes we need a reminder. Behold:

Welcome to my Sunday where you yell "What's up boo?" and insisted more than once on high five-ing me. I declined because I don't do high fives. Beer goggle mode was apparently on, because I had not showered in two days and you were about 15 years younger than me. My perimenopausal weight gain was obvious and I was wearing unflattering clothes.

Thank you, Anonymous, for pointing out the folly of public high-fives with strangers. As for you marathoners? We've seen enough of your sweat-stained clothes and bloody nips. GO HOME. (And write a submission for the I, Anonymous Blog—where your fitness is of no interest to us.)

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