Friday - Cuss

Friday's plan was righteous: roll 18 miles out and back on the Grafton power lines, chill and log some miles. This plan dramatically changed with the addition of a workout by Fyffe to Saturday.
Fyffe joined me for some power lines and the discussion of what the workout should be commenced. He's talking all this 5:40's jargon which is tough to believe. Fyffe believes it, but I know him way better than he knows himself, and all runners like him (as I typed this, I smirked with pure malicious evil). But in all seriousness, this seemed pedestrian for Fyffe and thought I possibly could get my brains cussed out of my head on the run.
The run will be a marathon tempo run, 18-20 miles with the last 5 in 5:30-5:40 pace. This didn't scare me at all, but what concerned me was the god cuss 15 miles before. Fyffe reassured me about the logistics and he had me at blood and seamen, let's roll.
Meanwhile, as we are still on the "out" part of the power lines I don't realize just how windy it is. I did realize that we were rolling, and both of us decided to chill, run 10 and save a bit to crush skulls (or get skull crushed) tomorrow. The 5 miles back to the car was into 400-600 mph winds and was tough. We had to scream at each other just to talk, and most of the conversation was:
Fyffe: "I'm cussing freezing!"
Me: "what? I can't hear a cussing this, it's too windy! What did you say?"
Fyffe: "I'm cussing freezing!"
Me: "what? I can't hear a cussing this, it's too windy! What did you say?"
Fyffe: "I'm cussing freezing!"
Me: "what? I can't hear a cussing this, it's too windy! What did you say?"
Fyffe: "I'm cussing freezing!"
Me: "what? I can't hear a cussing this, it's too windy! What did you say?"
Fyffe: "I'm cussing freezing!"
Me: "what? I can't hear a cussing this, it's too windy! What did you say?"
You get it.