Blonde Chick: You want answers?
Chris: I think I’m entitled to them.
Blonde Chick: You want answers?
Chris: I want the truth!
Blonde Chick:You can’t handle the truth! Honey, we live in a world that has walls. And those walls have to be guarded by men in tights. Who’s gonna do it? You? You, Crowie? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for yourself and you curse the athletes that past you. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know: that your lack of running ability, while tragic, probably saved lives. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives…You don’t want the truth. Because deep down, in places you don’t talk about at parties, you want me at that add station. You need me at that aid station.
We use words like dehydrated, exhausted, quitting…we use these words as the backbone to a life spent training and racing. You use 'em as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rests his hands on his knees and sleeps under the roof of the very freedom I provide, then questions the manner in which I provide it! I’d rather you just said thank you and ran on your way. Otherwise, I suggest you pick yourself up and run. Either way, I don’t give a damn how much pain your in!
“maybe one day you will take my advice and realize that the first person off the bike does NOT win this race we’ve been coming too for the last how many years?”
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