Someone, please put me out of my misery...

I recently felt like I needed to help those less fortunate than myself. It’s what gives me real joy. So I decided to join a few friends who were running in a 5K “Fun-Run” before the Portland Rose Festival Starlight Parade. I decided to let my wife and kids come and enjoy the festivities also. They could sit along the parade route and enjoy costumes and activities while I took a leisurely jog through the city. Nothing like a family outing.
Afton dropped me off a block from the starting line where I met some buddies from work. We took a few minutes to stretch and warm up. One of the guys began bragging about how he jogged 5 miles that morning to get in shape. Once we finished stretching, we got down to the real business of making fun of all the schmucks who had gone out and bought professional running shorts with slits up to their ribs.
Next thing we knew, we were called to the starting line. I ended up sandwiched between “Tiny Shorts Tim” and a guy that looked like a sweaty gorilla, only hairier. A mere twenty minutes later, the gun rang out and we were off. Jeffrey, Greg (Mr. morning 5 miler), and I were passing runners left and right. Then about 150 yards into the race, we all had stitches in our sides and decided to ease up a little. We decided not to ease up too much cause we wanted to finish the race in under 20 minutes. About a half mile later, we were all hoping the finish line was coming up soon as we were all running on fumes. This was about the time we lost Greg. This was also when the run stopped being fun and became outright embarrassing, as children and people wearing 100 lb costume started passing us. Jeffrey and I decide we were never going to finish if we didn’t slow the pace. We were no longer worried about proper running form, only if we were going to have a heart attack and die in front of the cheering crowd. We starting to looked like we were running on two broken legs and our arms hanging like noodles (I’m pretty sure this was about the time we got passed by a four year old girl carrying bag and a set of golf clubs). An hour later, Jeffrey and I both crossed the finish line and I slurred out, "Let's...(pant, pant, pant) ...never...(pan(pant, pant, pant) ...do...(pant, pant, pant) ......(pant, pant, pant)...this...(pant, pant, pant)...again."
I hobbled my way back to Afton and she informed me that she had parked “…across the city somewhere…”
“Do you remember what street you parked on Afton?”
“I didn't park in the street, I parked in a parking structure.”
“Do you know where the structure is? I’m really tired and I feel really sick.”
“STOP YELLIING AT ME! I DON’T KNOW WHERE I PARKED!”
We then walked around the city aimlessly looked for a familiar parking structure. The parade is going on at this time, so we had to force our way through crowds everywhere we walk. The kids are yelling “Daddy, put me on your shoulders! I want to see the parade! Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, can I get some cotton candy?”
Just when I decide to lay down and die, Afton remembers that she parked in a structure next to Banana Republic. With what little I could muster up, I started walking toward it. Two miles later we were standing in front of Banana Republic.
“Ok, where now Afton?”
“I can’t remember?
“What?!?”
“I was in a rush and I didn’t pay attention. THIS IS YOUR FAULT TOO BRANDON!”
If all of my head steam had not been used up running, steam would have shot out of my ears.
“HOW IS THIS MY FAULT?!? I wasn’t even in the car!”
A few minutes later Afton said, “Ohh, there it is.” I stopped sobbing and wiped the tears from my face to limp back to the car.
Nothing like a good ole’ family outing. Let’s do this again next year.
You may be asking “What happened to Greg?” Well, he ended up finish the race long before Jeffrey and me. Of course he cheated and used an ambulance. Apparently, his kidneys were shutting down or some lame excuse like that. After about two week, he returned to work.