It’s that time of year again boys and girls. If it’s the middle of June in Duluth, MN, it must be time for Grandma’s Marathon!
I have written about this time before…I despise this time in our fair city. As if things weren’t already touristy, you have an influx of eleventy thousand yuppies, guppies, and puppies, all far more physically fit than you. They will do the tourist thing of standing around in large groups, completely blocking the sidewalk as they all decide where to go for dinner, they will step out in front of traffic as they look everywhere but at the crosswalk signals, and worst of all, they will piss and shit in your peony bushes instead of using the many biffies set up along the route.
Nothing like standing at your picture window with your morning cup of coffee and seeing a grown, sweaty man with bleeding nipples squatting in your front yard. It’s a site likely to turn anyone off physical activity for the rest of their lives.
And as I have personally experienced the thrill of a traffic jam that takes 4 hours to go five miles, this year we have the added experience of having a lane of traffic closed before the influx of marathoners even arrive.
This yearly rant might make me sound like a crochety old hag that stands on my front lawn and shakes my fist in the air, screaming at “those damn kids!”
Well, that’s only because I am.