The beer mile, as told by Bobby’s inner monologue:
Wait, why are we running to the track?
Wait, where is the track?
Ok, here it is.
OOOH. Dirt. Fun!
OOOH. Beer. Even more fun!
Wait, Michelob Ultra?
Eh, free beer is free beer.
…and it says “ultra” on it, so it must be good.
Is Clapper wearing cut-off painters pants?
Clapper’s drunk. One less competitor to worry about.
Uh oh, they’re all lining up.
Beer me!
Dude I am gonna get destroyed.
All these new people who do track workouts?
I bet I’m gonna get chicked by Martha.
Neal has somehow achieved negative body fat.
I’m screwed.
GO TIME!
Hello delicious nectar. Get in mah belly!
F*ck, this beer is way too cold.
It tastes like burning!
Slow and steady, Bobby. Just get it down without spilling.
Uh oh, everyone is running already.
DRINK FASTER.
Ok, 1 down. Go run.
What the hell? Did Jon just puke foam on me?
Keep running.
What the hell? Did Jon just snot rocket me?
Just ignore it, dumbass. Keep running.
Whoa, back at the start already.
3rd place? I can dig that.
BUUUUUURP.
See if you can do this beer in one gulp.
Nope, horrible idea Bobby.
Take a breather so you don’t puke.
BUUUUURP.
2 down. Go.
Ok, I think I can handle this pace.
I am smooth and swift like a Kenyan
…but like a fat Kenyan.
Dear God Neal is fast.
Just hang on, Bobby.
Watch me get injured in a 1 mile race.
Back into transition. 2nd place.
New strategy: move can away from mouth.
Well fancy that. A smooth, fast pour. That’s what I’m talking about.
3 down. Go!
I’m ahead of Neal! Woohoo!
Crap, Neal is ahead.
Am I burping with every step?
Keep it down, keep it down, keep it down.
This is not going to end well.
♪♫ It’s Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday. ♪♫
CRAP, why is that song permanently stuck in my head?
Burp everything out before you make it back.
Ok, beer #4. Let’s do this.
You can out-drink Neal but you can’t out-run him. FASTER!
Gulp. Burp. Gulp. Done.
4 down. Neal is still drinking. GO!
Run like your life depends on it.
Glance over the shoulder and gauge the gap.
You looked too quick, idiot. You didn’t see anything.
Look again.
Right on my tail. Damnit.
I bet he’s doing this on purpose.
Ok, stomach trouble starting to kick in.
♪♫ Friday, Friday… ♪♫
Damn that song!
Do I hear them yelling my name back in transition?
No, they must be yelling for boobies. Much more plausible.
Ok, last 100m, give it all you got.
Neal is so gonna blast by at any second.
Shoulder glance on the final turn, no Neal.
Don’t slow down, you never know…
FINISHED.
Holy crap I just won my first beer mile.
Holy crap I actually won a race.
Whoa.
Really?
Wait, more importantly, why has this beer not hit me yet?
I think I need another beer.
