So I went running over the weekend. (See, I do more in my free time than just watch pro wrestling. Not much more, but I did get out for a jog!) I am pleased to announce the weather is now warm enough for runners to start showing off their strong, hairy legs again, shedding those long sweat pants!
It seems the uniform for a running stud right now is long-sleeve shirt or jacket, and short pants. Their legs are proudly bare. I also saw more and more runners wearing colorful shoes in bright tones like orange, yellow, red, and flourescent green.
I started to think (I am a slow runner, so I had lots of time to think) that the day-glo orange, fire-engine red, and neon green shoes, which are popular among the more handsome, young, show-offy runners these days are similar to the wildly colored boots that some wrestlers wear.
And the point of a man (whether a runner or a rassler) selecting and wearing such flamboyant footwear is to really draw our eyes to his legs — to encourage us to focus our gaze on his long calf muscles and thick thighs.
I must admit that associating the bare legs and bright footwear of the runners passing me with pro wrestlers (who also show off their long, powerful legs) helped take my mind off the pain and drudgery of running. I was soon coasting along, eager to see what would come bouncing around the corner next, like waiting for the curtain to open and the Baby-Face of the week to make his ring entrance.
I think some of the runners noticed me gaping at their flexing leg muscles as they pounded past me, but most of them just gave me a little smile and a wink.
And if I ever got bored during my run, I would just picture the next runner I saw wrapping his long, muscular legs around somebody’s neck (preferably mine), hooking his bright yellow, lavender, or orange shoes together, and scissoring the fuck out of somebody (preferably me).
Maybe I’ve been watching too much wrestling if I’m starting to associate running shoes with rasslin boots. I suppose I should get my mind out of my fetish gutter and stop perving on fellow runners as if they’re pieces of wrestling meat.
On the other hand, there sure are some jaw dropping, masculine, powerful legs running around out there. Why not enjoy it. Being able to think about those thighs and calf muscles in the act of wrestling sure took the pain out of exercise.
At one point, I was passed going the same direction by a pace group of about a dozen dudes in training, all bounding along at the same speed in their short pants. All those hard, flexing legs pumping away and running shoes striking the ground had me thinking of a Battle Royal, where the wrestling ring is just filled with bare legs and colorful boots.
I was nearly swooning as they included me in their group for a minute, then hustled past me with positive comments like: “Good morning — keep it up! — lookin’ good!”
