Limping Marathon Runner

Uncle Uncle ... *tsk tsk tsk* I thought you are the Barbabian. I thought you are the conqueror. Conan is name to cover your delicate innards, eh? Instead of emerging as the victor, nausea conquered you. For the work of vomitus over the jogging tracks, we (I pity the cleaners) thank you, NOT. Bah! (Now that sounds like someone or something, which is such a dead giveaway) Conan still has the cheek to claim his porridge and "you-tiao" booty after the run. Eat, puke, eat, puke. Looks like a bulimic Conan to me. So many years ..... still puke over runs. You still burn real rubber tires and fuel (petrol) than your own body's rubber tire (gummy bear tummy) and fuel. You better watch your consumption. High blood is no joke.

Okay. You're coming with me. Now, put on that jogging shoe. Don't worry, Uncle, I'm not laughing at you. I just want you to run, for fitness sake.