I think there's some genetic engineering going on around here. People aren't supposed to look like this.
Texas was supposed to be a thicker place. I was supposed to arrive as a svelte, attractive New Yorker, there to draw envy at my boyish good lucks and sophisticated manner, at least in relation to the Buddy Garritys that I presumed were my competition.
But when I suit up, step outside and head to the local trails for a "run" I'm surrounded by physical freaks of nature, horrific mutations of humanity. They charge past me, fueled by organic foodstuffs and the intense drive to make people like me look like panty-wastes.
There must be a lab, perhaps in some abandoned underground nuclear facility, where average humans like myself are injected with serum distilled from the waters of Lake Travis and Lance Armstrong's urine and turning them into walking billboards for Triathlete Magazine.
(It's worth noting, however, that some of these experiments are clearly working for the benefit of humanity. I've discovered, however, that this subspecies is put off by the heavy panting and wheezing that interrupts my speech during these encounters)
I don't understand! I'm eating the same massive quantities of barbecue, tex-mex, and Shiner Bock that everyone else seems to be consuming. Twice as much, even! And as I stumble and heave around Town Lake I try to tell myself, "You're an animal! You're an animal!" Perhaps I've picked the wrong role model.
Anyway I'm just warning you all (not y'all...not yet) that there's a race of super-humans in your midst, and should they migrate north and turn upon you you won't be able to outrun them.
Or maybe that's just me.