Ode to the HP Man

Thank you, oh man of the honey pot.  If I could drink a beer, I’d hoist one in your honor.  But I can’t have a beer, so the hoisting will have to wait.  Plus, if I had a beer, I’d mess up your handiwork.

Why the homage to the honey pot man?  Well, they are lifesavers in these parts.

Every day, sometimes twice a day, they stop by and pump them dry, replenishing the chemical slush at the same time.

They then spray out the entire box with a chemical disenfectant.  It sure makes it smell good in there.  But one lesson I learned is that while this is a very desirable thing, one should not step inside the box about 10 minutes after they are done.

The direct sun and 110F temperature outside temperature easily turn the inside into a 150F sauna.  Couple that with the washdown and it turns the inside into a steam room of 150F with about 90% humidity.

I’ll hold it, thank you.  And for those who know me well know I can’t hold it for anything.

And the final thank you to Mr Honey Pot Man is for the fresh rolls of TP.

Any race that I’ve ever attended needs to figure out how to hire these guys.

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2 thoughts on “Ode to the HP Man”

  1. I just love the fact that the HPM places his mark and actually leaves a HP in places where you need it. Like at mile 7.5 on a 20 mile run after eating a 1,100 calorie burrito just a few short hours prior.

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