Let’s face it, the holidays are hard.
You know what else is hard? Running a 50-mile race.
You know what apparently is even harder than running a 50-mile race?
Running the race and not feeling the need to tell everyone about it.
No one is more aware of this than Ken Shropshire’s grandmother, Nanna. Nanna says she dreads the holidays because she knows how it’s going to turn out. She prohesizes, “Just after saying grace, Kenny will find a way to announce to everyone that he ran a fifty-mile race. Of course, no one will give a shit.
The problem will come about when his fatass Uncle Ricky tells him, ‘Fifty miles? I don’t even like to drive that far.’ He will then continue to say something about ‘not running unless he is being chased by something.’ It’s all incredibly obnoxious and predictable.”
When Ken asked Nanna what she wanted for Christmas, she told him, “I want you to shut the fuck about your stupid race and, in exchange, Uncle Ricky will not tell you that he ‘Doesn’t like to drive that far’.”
While we all want to believe in Christmas miracles, the idea that anyone is going to run a 50-mile race in November and not bore the rest of the family with it over the holidays seems like an impossible task.
Best of luck Kenny, we feel sure you will fail. We all do.