MrsLarijani works for a private school at which Abigail is in the toddler class. It’s a really nice school.
Every year, the school has a 5K run as a fundraiser. Usually, most of the parents run it. The run is tomorrow morning.
One of the parents has a tendency to be a doúcheflúte. He tends to be kind of loud when he comes to pick up his kid, and he often gives other parents a lot of crap. MrsLarijani saw him chiding another parent for not being signed up for the 5K, as if trotting for 3.1 miles makes you some great athlete.
Me: “Are you saying you want me to wear my Ironman finisher shirt tomorrow?”
MrsLarijani: “YES! I WANT YOU TO WEAR IT!”
Me: “I won’t be the fastest runner out there, but leave us out there long enough and I could bury most of their asses.”
MrsLarijani: “True story.”
It had been my intention to retire that shirt, as I only planned to wear it to triathlon club-related functions. But hey…if it gets a loudmouth to shut up, it might be worth getting it out.