Saturday, August 19, 2006
Marathon Man Part Deux
MARATHON MAN DEUX
By Steve Fey
Last weekend I was going to be out of town on Sunday morning so I did my twelve miles on Friday instead. The day started out well, because as it did so I was still asleep, which is always a comfortable way to start things out. But after a few hours, at four or so, I got up, ate a hearty breakfast of brown rice, pennicilium mold, and the juice of Luna moths, and set out for my long, long run.
I started out going uphill, knowing, as I of course do so well, that things would go downhill fast enough. As it happens the trek uphill, which went on for almost an hour, goes past an interesting assortment of shops. The place with the really good authentic New York pizza was okay because they don’t open until lunch. I guess the Lowes was okay too because even in Vegas they aren’t open at 4:30 in the morning. Of course there was the IHOP™, which is wide open at any hour several days a week, including Friday. Lucky for me I had a generous supply of Gatorade™ thirst quencher which, oh heck, no joke here, the stuff tastes a bit salty but it’s a miracle drug. If you want to exercise, especially in hot weather, get some. Sorry, folks, I just can’t mock such a life saving invention. Besides, I did have with me a generous supply of Gatorade™, so I’m not making that part up.
At any rate, in my case about thirteen minutes per mile, which is a whopping 4.6 (count ‘em) miles per hour (watch out Danika Patrick) I kept on going uphill until I ran out of hill up which to run. [That sentence is a prime example of correctly f***ed up English. That is, it is proper so far as your high-school English teacher is concerned, but it’s truly a lousy way to speak English. What it means is that I kept running until I got to the top of the hill. See how much better that sounds?] From the top of that hill I could see for, well, sheer meters in any direction. Triple-digit meters, even, maybe a few rods down one way. It was breathtaking, or I guess it was because by that time I couldn’t catch my breath. Too bad I’d only gone about four point six miles, huh? But, as I said, it was all downhill from there, so down I went.
You learn things about your neighborhood when you go out early in the morning and run around. For example, if you go on a public path, there will have been a lot of dogs there before you. Sometimes I even meet a dog who’s also out for some exercise, but that’s okay. It’s the former dogs, or rather their presents to future pedestrians, that really add some interest to the morning’s activities. Do you know that it’s possible to sidestep six ways in six steps without breaking stride? Well, it isn’t, but you can try if you really want to. Still, and all, I missed. Or the dog dooty missed, depending on how you look at it. Or maybe I mean smell it.
This week it’s back to Sunday, but my next installment is going to be about a bit of fun invented in Sweden. Unfortunately, it doesn’t involve Swedish girls, although it could if they wanted to. But, that’s for next time. Until then, keep your blisters dry . . .
By Steve Fey
Last weekend I was going to be out of town on Sunday morning so I did my twelve miles on Friday instead. The day started out well, because as it did so I was still asleep, which is always a comfortable way to start things out. But after a few hours, at four or so, I got up, ate a hearty breakfast of brown rice, pennicilium mold, and the juice of Luna moths, and set out for my long, long run.
I started out going uphill, knowing, as I of course do so well, that things would go downhill fast enough. As it happens the trek uphill, which went on for almost an hour, goes past an interesting assortment of shops. The place with the really good authentic New York pizza was okay because they don’t open until lunch. I guess the Lowes was okay too because even in Vegas they aren’t open at 4:30 in the morning. Of course there was the IHOP™, which is wide open at any hour several days a week, including Friday. Lucky for me I had a generous supply of Gatorade™ thirst quencher which, oh heck, no joke here, the stuff tastes a bit salty but it’s a miracle drug. If you want to exercise, especially in hot weather, get some. Sorry, folks, I just can’t mock such a life saving invention. Besides, I did have with me a generous supply of Gatorade™, so I’m not making that part up.
At any rate, in my case about thirteen minutes per mile, which is a whopping 4.6 (count ‘em) miles per hour (watch out Danika Patrick) I kept on going uphill until I ran out of hill up which to run. [That sentence is a prime example of correctly f***ed up English. That is, it is proper so far as your high-school English teacher is concerned, but it’s truly a lousy way to speak English. What it means is that I kept running until I got to the top of the hill. See how much better that sounds?] From the top of that hill I could see for, well, sheer meters in any direction. Triple-digit meters, even, maybe a few rods down one way. It was breathtaking, or I guess it was because by that time I couldn’t catch my breath. Too bad I’d only gone about four point six miles, huh? But, as I said, it was all downhill from there, so down I went.
You learn things about your neighborhood when you go out early in the morning and run around. For example, if you go on a public path, there will have been a lot of dogs there before you. Sometimes I even meet a dog who’s also out for some exercise, but that’s okay. It’s the former dogs, or rather their presents to future pedestrians, that really add some interest to the morning’s activities. Do you know that it’s possible to sidestep six ways in six steps without breaking stride? Well, it isn’t, but you can try if you really want to. Still, and all, I missed. Or the dog dooty missed, depending on how you look at it. Or maybe I mean smell it.
This week it’s back to Sunday, but my next installment is going to be about a bit of fun invented in Sweden. Unfortunately, it doesn’t involve Swedish girls, although it could if they wanted to. But, that’s for next time. Until then, keep your blisters dry . . .
Labels: Marathon
