Though I generally favor dynamic action over quiet contemplation, when I do ponder life's more pressing philosophical questions, I basically make it my policy to punch the shit out of them with my mind-fist. And so, as the days grow shorter and the nights grow cooler, it once again comes time to reflect upon a year of astonishing victories, and my thoughts once again turn to Art from Ashes' Running of the Gays, that most robust of contests, which pits men in heels and dresses against other men in heels in dresses in an epic, three-block battle of speed, agility and endurance. I won that race last year, and this Sunday, when the Running mounts its second annual edition, I plan to win it again.
I expect it to be a lot like Rocky II, in which Rocky defeats Apollo Creed for real this time, except for the difference between Rocky and me is that he didn't win the first time and I did, so possibly it will be more like Rocky III, in which case the gays will be more like Mr. T, probably in more ways than one. And I pity the gays. Nevertheless, while my recent return from paternity leave makes a compelling case for my heterosexuality (though I'm pretty certain I'm virile enough to impregnate a man if it came down to it), I don't necessarily see my imminent victory as representative of men who enjoy vigorous sex with women; rather, I come before my competitors as a human being, to do battle with other formidable human beings, regardless of affiliation. So consider the fucking gauntlet thrown.
"It's not really a race," counters Erin McLauthlin, spokesperson for Art From Ashes, which hosts the event in support of its work with Rainbow Alley to bring poetry and writing programs to troubled gay teens. McLauthlin, incidentally, also claims she'll be racing in a bull costume, which will actually mark the second occasion I have raced a person dressed as an animal. "We're all winners."
And yet we were not all winners last year, because I was, in fact, the only one who won. "You keep harping on that," McLauthlin says.
And I will keep harping on that until my dying day, McLauthlin! But if there's anyone else who's got the stones to go up against me, go ahead: The event is free, and all you have to do is show up at Steuben's in a dress and heels on Sunday at 11 a.m. to get in the race (donations are, of course, encouraged, and a silent auction follows with prizes from local businesses). See you there, pussy.
But if your fear keeps you at home, it's all good -- stay tuned Monday, when we'll have a full report with video. Of me. Winning.
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