Earlier in the week, YHC put out a call for the fine pax of Laketope to join him on a 13-mile urban hike. YHC waited eagerly for the HCs to start rolling in. After waiting 3 hours with nary a peep, he picked himself up by the bootstraps and walked a half marathon by himself. Upon his return, there was a response to his tweet: a cheerful golfer was interested if the distance was reduced by 4-5 miles. Sold!
After encouraging Happy Gilmore to learn all about DMs, we got in touch digitally to make arrangements. YHC pored over maps coming up with the perfect 8 mile loop. On a whim, YHC reached out to another old-timer to see if there was interest, and after confirming that he could miss his water painting class he sent his HC albeit with a caveat — he wanted a route that looped back to the starting point halfway through to allow for dropping a deuce midway along the route.
Although the request would be difficult, I agreed that I would sacrifice a portion of my afternoon to rework our trek to meet his demands (and weak bladder). And after trying and failing the first several attempts, YHC had a eureka! moment and arrived on the perfect trek. An 8-mile route that resembled a “figure 8” (assuming it was squashed and severely distorted and viewed by a drunkard with 20/50 sight).
The morning of the excursion arrived cool and cloudy but sans any serious threats of rain. Happy Gilmore was the first to arrive. As a Michigander who pulls for *ichigan in football, he clearly felt inferior during March Madness and had apparently swung by a Walmart or Goodwill for his outfit — a long sleeve shirt with a hideous NC logo in baby blue. He said he wasn’t a fan, but thought it might come in handy if we needed to lay something across a mud puddle or had an emergency along the router requiring a TP substitute. Hard to argue with his choice.
As for the gnarliest of goats, it was one excuse after the other as the time came to get started. First he was coming in hot. Then he wasn’t going to make it at all. Then he was going to join but only for the first half. Then he was good for the entire route. Next he had a last minute call at the firehouse — might have to go without him. Then the call was wrapping up and he was on his way. Then he was running late but we should wait. Then he had to find a space for the Sequoia. Then it was 15 minutes after we had planned to start and we were finally on our way — right after he decided on a sweatshirt or a raincoat. Good grief!
The route took us across the bridge toward Irwin Tools, across Sam Furr and down Northcross toward Meg-art, and then back through Birkdale via Devonshire to return to Starbucks. The 2nd loop went left at the theater along the “Streetlight Boogie” router made famous at Berean, up to Robbin’s Park, south on Catawba and west on 73 before turning into Birkdale by the Montessori school and returning to Starbucks a 2nd time.
One of the benefits of walking is the amount of mumblechatter that is possible when everyone can stay together and not be sucking wind most of the time. Being three old men, the conversation naturally started with a comparison of ailments — knees for Gilmore, hips for Gnarly and back for Beard. But then the sharp minds really began the wander. The highlight came about 6 miles in when HG announced that he would be downright pissed off if we had opted for 13 miles and would have only been at the halfway point. That was immediately followed by voicing a frustration about how the weight gained after eating an ounce of chocolate was more than an ounce, how it was necessary for other people to gain weight in order for another to lose (in order for the total mass of the planet to remain static and not spin off into the heavens), and how weight would increase after farting because the methane released was lighter than air and was no longer counteracting gravity.
After wrapping up, Happy was eager to get home so that he could get some painting done (and not the Bob Ross stuff that Goat gave up to join us). Meanwhile, Goat agreed to join me for a cup of coffee, although the cup I ordered at the register was practically finished before his in-app order was ready — apparently froufrou drinks take priority for mobile orders. Following caffeine, Goat headed home for lunch and his honey-do list while YHC was given instructions to write this account of our adventures.
Awesome backblast! I enjoyed the morning. Go NC State!!
NGL, there was a point late in the 2nd half where AO was certain you jinxed us. But then the skies parted and the ball went where it needed to go to continue our destiny.
Here’s hoping the painting went well, the golf will be enjoyable and the FJ was finally cleared from your driveway!
This BB aged well. Heckuva night of bball.
And quite a good BB for a workout that didn’t really happen (OTB).
A little wolfie told me you rooted for the Pack at Top Golf. It takes a big ram to do that. Hopefully it’s satisfactory if I don’t actively root against your team during the tournament? I do like including the Heels statistically in favor of the ACC deserving more bids… 🤗
I was there for this event, and I need to clairfy a couple things…
First off, we were just over the half way mark when Happy G, having regaled us with stories of the Force’s yard gnomes, opines something along the lines of, “I’m all out of mumblechatter. If we weren’t over the half-way mark, I’d start bitc.. n’.” At that point I says to myself, “Self, we’re in trouble.”
So I figured right then and there was the time to pose the existential question of “when you ‘lose’ weight, where exactly does it go?”
This of course triggered BlackBae into a college-level discourse on insulin, carbon dioxide, and the best locks for the cabinets above the refrigerator. All of which leads to conclusion which is inherently obvious to the most casual observer… when you fart you must necessarily gain weight.
Next thing you know, the walk was plum done, and we was sittin in the rain waiting 22 minutes for a small cup of black coffee.
It was a good morning to have a good morning.
I stand corrected (despite the fact that I’m lying down while writing this).