Long Run (10.63k)

HRH  has her first baby-sitting gig this morning so being the dutiful step-dad I am, I agreed to take her into St. Catharines and just do my long run workout in the city instead.  It’s been a while since I’ve run in the city and seeing as how I used to live downtown for years I thought it would be fun in a reminiscing kind of way (Disclaimer:  it wasn’t, but I’ll come to that).

I also realize that 10.63k isn’t really “long”.  But given that there’s no immediate need to keep going long on the weekend anymore, I’ve culled my “long run” workouts back to just 60 minutes.  That’s it.  Done.  I actually go longer during my weekly fartlek runs but for lack of something better to call them, I’ll keep my weekend runs under the “long” moniker for the time being.  And, today, my “long run” soundtrack was the ‘Lightning Strikes the Postman‘  album by The Flaming Lips.


Released just this past Record Store Day, ‘Lightning Strikes the Postman’, which happens to be on CD, is an alternate mix of 1997’s ‘Clouds Taste Metallic’.  HRH  and I saw it on the shelf but opted against it solely because, well, it’s RECORD STORE DAY, not CD DAY.  Sure it came with a cute little comic book by Wayne Coyne but, really?   We were after vinyl.  Instead, I downloaded that mama-jama and listened to it today instead.

The album is all instrumental and very much weird, as one might expect from The Flaming Lips.  It was fun, but I’m sure glad I stuck to my vinyl guns and opted not to doll out the $17.99 for it on the big day.

Anyway, I originally thought it would be fun to run from the YMCA to the end of Port Dalhousie pier and back, just like I did back in the good ‘ol days.  Unfortunately, the pier is now closed off and, well, yeah, that was that.  Furthermore, I also realized that I’ve really become very accustomed to running in the country (click HERE) and that running in city, particularly when you’ve become unfamiliar with it, is an entirely different beast.  Suddenly, there is major traffic to contend with and traffic lights and crosswalks and pedestrians and traffic and, and…shit, I’m already beginning to hyperventilate again.

Basically, I felt like an accident just waiting to happen.  Sure I don’t have coywolves to worry about, but in the grand scheme of things, I like my chances of fending off an attack from a rogue dog pack than I do than some dipshit behind the wheel of a Dodge Caravan.  Besides, “Eaten by wild dogs”  is an infinitely cooler way to meet your maker than “Dragged to death for 3 city blocks by distracted soccer mom”.

At least the little jaunt through Jaycee Park was nice.


About crazytigerrabbitman

I am a fat guy and always will be in the same way they say that “once an alcoholic; always an alcoholic”. Eventually I got upset about my poor health and ballooning body frame so I decided to change things for the better. Some people sign up for Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig, or whatever fad diet program it is that happens to be occupying the majority of air time on the boob tube. Other people prefer to run out and purchase the latest, fold away, piece of shit being hawked by some celebrity has-been. Me? I decided to take up triathlon. I had abused my body over the years with bacon cheeseburgers, pints of beer and double-dipped donuts, and the time had now come to abuse my body with physical exertion, perseverance and hard work instead; penitence in it's purest form. The time had come to kick my ass. I am Terry Nash and I am the “fat and the furious”.
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