Physically, I was designed for cross-country running - the physique is there. Mentally, it makes perfect sense to me - a self-preservation order. It's the only time the teacher made sense...
"Run this way, really fast, but stay between the lines" - er, right, not really going to happen.
"Run any way, really fast, and.... where the fuck did he go?" - yey, now we're talking, or rather, running.
I can fight, if I have to, but it fucking hurts. Why bother if you can
My ego will heal a lot faster than a broken arse. So fucking what, that the last thing you saw was my Gothic furry butt disappearing through a hedge?! Better that than coming to my funeral (which will be nice, incidentally - marshmallows for everyone, 'yey, toast them over my burning carcass')
Ergo, mentally, I associate with....
The 'Games Master-bator' (P.E. Teacher) used to get very frustrated with me, but I figure that's because he couldn't catch and stroke me.
"Where'd he go?" he would demand of the little fat one
"Dunno Sir, there was a blur and then..."
"So, where the fuck is he?" - AAAAAAAARGH
*little fat one pointing in the direction I'd gone*
"Goddamn it - I can't see him Simpson"
Indeed, that will be because I'm running and hiding, and I don't care if you get your helicopters and shit 'cos I'm running and I'm not stopping 'till you put your pants back on...