Clayton Still Recovering from Awkward Gorilla Assault

Well, what can I say, that was a heck of a way to start off my 26th year. (Wait is it technically my 27th year?) THANK YOU to everyone who came out this morning. And thank you, Amber, you clever lass, (dang, I knew I would eventually absorb some of Paddy’s Irish lingo) for brining 50 of my closest friends together to disappoint me, if only for a minute, and then… appoint me (?). Anyways, I felt quite loved watching 50 runners heading up the hill singing happy birthday to me. Thank you. Amazing!

But let’s get to what you all really want to hear about… that fucking Gorilla. Holy shit, I think I may be traumatized for life. If you weren’t there, picture this. It’s a typical San Francisco summer morning, meaning 60 degrees, light drizzle and heavy fog. We’re at minute 23 of a power half hour when ~200 yards off, a gorilla in a tutu comes lumbering through the mist at an eerily pedestrian pace. I mean, I had a full 5 minutes to think about this gorilla and the impending embarrassment that would soon ensue. There were many, many, questions to be answered. Who sent this? Who is this guy? What time did he have to wake up in order to get here on time? How often does he wash this gorilla suit? Was I supposed to change the exercise like 30 seconds ago? A strange strange morning indeed. Turns out, it was my parents who sent this one. Thanks, Mom and Dad. Well executed… He made me sit on his lap. I don’t know if I will ever recover.

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Lastly but not leastly, Padraig’s parents were in attendance! Took them long enough, eh? We’ve already had the Green’s, the Zipin’s, half the Clayton’s… I guess we can give them a break since they came all the way from the land of saints and scholars. Whose parent’s are next!?

WEDNESDAY MORNING, as per usual, 6:26am at Alta Plaza Park.

 

 

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