Getting the Runs...
So- some loyal blog readers know how I see the strangest things while running- I've posted about it before. I had not 1, not 2 but THREE strange encounters while running on Saturday morning through High Park.
The first one was on Bloor West of Dufferin. As I was running along and minding my own business someone started shouting something at me- so I stopped.
"You can do it!" a young woman called from a group of friends.
"I can do what?" I asked perplexed.
"Finish the run" She explained.
"Oh... I... er- I see." I said still perplexed why she was reaffirming something I already knew.
"I'm just trying to encourage you." She reasoned.
"Um... thank you." I said- still a little confused on what motivation she had for yelling out to people on the street that "They can do it!" I got to High Park- not in record time, but in a respectable sub 40 minutes, and started with the interior trails.
I ran through the zoo and looked at the Buffalo, peacocks, Emu and Llama, and sped through the trails down to the south end of the park. As I was running along the path- an old man going the opposite direction on his bicycle slowed. "Get off the steroids!" a grizzled liquor worn voice croaked. His haggard face turned menacingly into a scowl.
As you know if you've read my blog- when running- I don't kindly suffer fools- and honk at people who honk at me. He didn't even finish his sentence when I had my rejoinder ready: a slew of non-worded syllables said in the same menacing tone, the same menacing scowl as he had.
"Muhmuh muhmuhmuhmuh muhmuhmuh!!!!"
The third and final one encounter was equally strange- but I had enough and just ignored him. See? I'm not all piss and vinegar... Anyways- as runners know, when one runs they tend to get phlegmy and spit. Such is my affliction. I was running along the lake at the South West corner of High Park and I hocked a loggie.
"Beautiful!" I heard someone call. "That's just sexy! Isn't that marvelous?"
I turned my head. Judging by his build, the man would have absolutely no familiarity with running. A fellow sitting on the park bench with his girlfriend trying to show off. Too late- I was already turning the corner and by that time- slowing down, stopping and asking "What the hell is your problem? Get up, bitch! I'm g'na to teach you lesson in ass whoppin'!" would be both moot and not reflective of good manners or good judgement.
Or maybe it's because I was at that point running for over an hour in 33 degree humidity and I was slightly pooped. At least- too pooped to make a poop about this poop head trying to talk poop to impress his girlfriend.
Poop.
The first one was on Bloor West of Dufferin. As I was running along and minding my own business someone started shouting something at me- so I stopped.
"You can do it!" a young woman called from a group of friends.
"I can do what?" I asked perplexed.
"Finish the run" She explained.
"Oh... I... er- I see." I said still perplexed why she was reaffirming something I already knew.
"I'm just trying to encourage you." She reasoned.
"Um... thank you." I said- still a little confused on what motivation she had for yelling out to people on the street that "They can do it!" I got to High Park- not in record time, but in a respectable sub 40 minutes, and started with the interior trails.
I ran through the zoo and looked at the Buffalo, peacocks, Emu and Llama, and sped through the trails down to the south end of the park. As I was running along the path- an old man going the opposite direction on his bicycle slowed. "Get off the steroids!" a grizzled liquor worn voice croaked. His haggard face turned menacingly into a scowl.
As you know if you've read my blog- when running- I don't kindly suffer fools- and honk at people who honk at me. He didn't even finish his sentence when I had my rejoinder ready: a slew of non-worded syllables said in the same menacing tone, the same menacing scowl as he had.
"Muhmuh muhmuhmuhmuh muhmuhmuh!!!!"
The third and final one encounter was equally strange- but I had enough and just ignored him. See? I'm not all piss and vinegar... Anyways- as runners know, when one runs they tend to get phlegmy and spit. Such is my affliction. I was running along the lake at the South West corner of High Park and I hocked a loggie.
"Beautiful!" I heard someone call. "That's just sexy! Isn't that marvelous?"
I turned my head. Judging by his build, the man would have absolutely no familiarity with running. A fellow sitting on the park bench with his girlfriend trying to show off. Too late- I was already turning the corner and by that time- slowing down, stopping and asking "What the hell is your problem? Get up, bitch! I'm g'na to teach you lesson in ass whoppin'!" would be both moot and not reflective of good manners or good judgement.
Or maybe it's because I was at that point running for over an hour in 33 degree humidity and I was slightly pooped. At least- too pooped to make a poop about this poop head trying to talk poop to impress his girlfriend.
Poop.
posted by Mike at 7/11/2005 03:04:00 p.m.
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