There are so many intelligent and articulate people covering the hard-hitting
issues in our country these days, that I felt it was my duty to cover the
rather inconsequential bullshit that tends to make up the vast majority of
our lives. Actually, I'll just be griping a lot which, if you weren't aware,
doubles as a synonym for complaining, and as a descriptor for
a sharp pain in the bowels.

Saturday, June 30, 2012

Things That Begin With 'R'

Running is certainly at the top of this list for my dumbass as I've been an over-enthused enthusiast of the activity and the sport pretty much since taking it up as a freshman in high school. I'm bizarrely competitive about a great number of things, but it wasn't until I started running for sport that I remembered how competitive I'd been about it anyway. Schoolyard races, gym class tests, blowing by someone in this or that sport, I prided myself on being faster than people expected.

Of course, as is the way for many people, the body can't always keep up with the brain, and even vice versa. And so many an injury has sidelined me over the years but, if anything, my love of running has only increased. And so then we have the Olympic Trials, where there is a rare showcase of track (and field) on a broader scale. People start to give a shit about swimming, and diving and, well, as ridiculous as some of the events can seem (I apologize racewalk, but I'll never understand thee), it's a thrill for me to watch people perform at such high levels in all of these things. But it's not just that that I often ask of an athlete, I often want to see them do it gracefully. It's the added confirmation that they were meant to do this, that we were as a whole too, but them more than others.

And then you have the sprint for news, in that photo set a race to get the word out on the passage of new health care initiatives, an initiative that one politician deemed on par with 9/11. I suppose you do dial that in an emergency, and now you might have health services to back you up...

But as a runner you can do weird things. Yesterday, for instance, I ran to my old apartment to pick up some cooking supplies and then ran back. Given traffic at that hour, my desire to get in a mile or two (and also that I don't drive), this made perfect sense. But a shirtless man in small red shorts toting a plastic grocer's bag looks a bit odd I'm going to guess.

Aside from that sort of thing, which I don't expect most folks do, it isn't just me being 'weird' on the running front. I know from speaking with others of the running ilk. I analyze every runner I see out running. Is he/she fast? How/why do they run like that? And then I wonder what I look like out there, form aside from general asshattery of appearance (as I have detailed in her before, at least vaguely, and perhaps even form as well). Of course, it doesn't matter if you can't run. When someone suggests you take up something other than running, and the thought is, "there is only running" a la Highlander, that's when you're in the leagues of the runner. I get grumpy about other runners when I can't run, but all that is is a petty jealousy. You think they can't possibly enjoy it as much as you, and perhaps don't deserve, all of which is bullshit.

So you take what you can get.

Another r-word would be rumour, and blogger does not like that I spelled that the old British way. I'm not sure I do either, but a rumour today that can be credited to fact is Ryan Braun's herpes. I can't say that I was too interested, but the topic came up while watching a baseball game and a friend could confirm that his friend had received a text from Mr. Braun advising to get herself tested. Generally that could be the kind of detail to share beforehand. Well, they're herpes now I suppose...

That isn't very many things that begin with 'r' yet but this entry is getting a touch long I'd say. So let's close out by the cheap use of adjective: radness. Imagine my sadness that radness appears not to be a word. Still, I was just peering through this tilt-shift photography post. Plenty of rad things, and why not that?

Tomorrow's July, July! Wherever does the time go?

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