I told them I was suicidal.
They got all excited and asked if I could drive a truck
* Emailed to me by Brighton
Bah dum bum!
OK, so I went running tonight. I was supposed to do it last night, but things got all mixed up and so I couldn't go. I guess I tried to make up for it tonight by killing myself. I had discovered a killer hill about a mile from here and I had run it a few times. It is great. But then I noticed that a block over from it is an even higher hill so I had set my sights on running up that one instead. According to Google Earth or whatever it rises up over 800 feet in a very short distance, so I was all wetting myself with excitement.
I ran this bastard expecting it to be harder than its' twin a block over, because it is higher up the mountain from the other road. But alas, it is laid out differently. It doesn't climb as steeply. It sort of stretches out more, and unless I have rapidly developed super strength, I honest believe the other hill, while shorter, is harder.
So anyway, I was a bit let down. I decided to try to ease my disappointment by running another killer hill that is about a mile away from the one I had just run. So I headed over that way.
Just to be a further lunatic I decided that simply running this hill wasn't good enough. I mean, if you run super steep hills a lot, but you always just plod up them at the slowest possible speed, what have you really accomplished, right? So I tried to pick up the pace. I figured if my lungs weren't burning and my heart wasn't threatening to explode then I must not be working hard enough. Well, apparently I worked plenty hard enough. I reached the top in a sorry state of hyperventilation, let me tell you.
Still, I hadn't had quite enough pain, apparently. Or perhaps it was the oxygen deprivation driving me to madness? Anyway, there is another super duper killer hill that actually intersects with the killer hill I had just run. Only problem is, I was already at the top of it, so that meant I had to run around and come up it from another direction. And that meant jogging another mile to get around to the bottom without just running down the big bastard and then turning around and running up it again.
One thing about running giant hills, coming down a giant steep hill is a motherfucker for the knees, so I try to avoid that as much as possible. In this instance, I failed miserably in that department.
As I was running the long way around to get over to the bottom of this third killer hill, I decided to take a street I hadn't been on since high school. It looked steep and I thought maybe if it was steep and long enough then I might just run it and not need the other big giant bastard. It was steep enough that the city paved the road entirely in concrete, which they don't do unless there is a good reason. I thought that was a good sign.
Well, I was half right. It was steep alright, but I reached the top quickly only to find (duh) that it was a lot steeper and longer going down the other side.
Remember how I mentioned the oxygen deprivation? Yeah, I was at the top of a big hill, and there are several streets that climb this mountain, so no matter what road I took to get me around to the bottom of this one particularly steep street, I was going to have to run down the hill again first to get there. But somehow my brain overlooked this for a minute and truly believed that we could just keep going up and up if only I found the right street. In fairness to my brain, there are neighborhoods in this city where that is actually true. I had briefly contemplated jogging over to one of those endlessly rising neighborhoods (rich fucking people in mansions) to try its' endless killer hills when I decided to wimp out because it was at least 2 or 3 miles further away and then once I reached however high I managed to run there, I would have to come all the way back down again the same way I ran up, plus travel about 5 miles home again after having completely blown out my lungs and heart climbing the hills. So I had decided against it, but planted the idea of endless uphill climbs in my brain.
Anyway, I zig-zagged as best I could down the other side of the steep fucking hill, looking back briefly as I wondered if it was possible that this road might actually be steeper than the one I was about to go run up, then tripping and stumbling and almost sliding down the hill on my face. I recovered and kept going, but by the time I got to the bottom of the killer hill my knees and overall body was just about done. I ran past a house with 2 good-looking young girls and 2 boys standing out front. I saw two moms standing in the space connecting the two adjacent yards. I remember thinking that at least one of them was decent-looking. Then I noticed the dad standing out at the curb raking freshly cut grass. I said 'hey' and he said 'hi' in response as I ran past. And then they all, every one of them, turned to see if I was actually stupid enough to try to run up that hill.
Something I have noticed since returning to this city and my old neighborhood running courses is that while there may be other joggers out there running around, the fact is that I was never a jogger until I got pathetic and fat from my knee surgery. I was a runner. Joggers plod along and listen to their Ipod and figure once they've started to sweat a little bit that they've had a good enough workout and go home. Runners listen to their lungs and heart and knees and try to gauge just how fast they can go for the distance they plan to run and then they try to go just a little faster. Also, joggers avoid big-ass motherfucking hills that make you want to vomit and pass out. Runners head straight for them. I have run through this neighborhood several times since returning here and many times seen other joggers and walkers around. But never once have I seen anyone heading TOWARDS the big fucking hill. Except me.
So anyway, everyone turned to watch me as I headed for this killer hill that joggers avoid like Jews avoid pork and charitable donation requests (I love you, Patricia!) I heard the girls start chanting. I couldn't tell what they were saying, but they were clearly chanting for me. Someone threw a firecracker and it scared the shit out of me. Up and up I went, gasping and panting. The hill rapidly gets steeper until it's like running up a cliff. Their chanting grew fainter. And so did the colors of the road in front of me. And even though it was over 90 degrees outside, I started to feel a cold chill.
I am NOT fucking stopping. I may be overheating, but there are girls watching and chanting and some stupid ass throwing firecrackers and I know that whole freaking neighborhood is watching me and expecting me to fail, but I am not going to stop. I've overheated plenty of times before. I can deal with it. Just so long as I don't ... ah, pretty colors. No, focus! Good, I'm still running. I may not be able to breath or anything, but my legs are still going. Good job! It'll start to level off soon. We don't need air. Air is for pussies. Mmmm, pussy. I wonder what Jessica Biel is doing right about now? I'll bet she's out running up some hill. And I'll bet that fag, Justin Timberlake, is with her. OK, I can't see at all now. Did I just go blind thinking about Jessica Biel? I guess it's true, then! Oh wait, I'm running and overheating. Just a little further and I'll be on top of this bitch.
I made it! It was the fourth big damn hill in my run that night, and it was the hardest of them all, but I made it and I never stopped to walk even once. I didn't even stop to walk once I had reached the top even though the thought briefly crossed my mind before Jessica Biel charged in while completely naked and beat it up. And my brain started to cool back down to a functioning temperature once I crested the hill and started back towards home again.
On the way back towards home I couldn't help but think to myself, "who is the fucker who asked the city to install these motherfucking speed bumps on every street in every neighborhood around here?! I want to find that asswipe and rip out their liver through their sphincter!"
Yes, but then I thought about my achievement. I may look like total ass right now, and I'm sure one of the reasons the entire neighborhood turned to watch me attack that hill is because they had looked at me and simply could not believe that a man who looks as bad as I do right now could possibly be capable of conquering that hill. Well you know what? Fuck them! Especially their hot daughters who were chanting for me. And maybe their wives, too. I mean, fuck them as in having sex, not like I hate them or something. They were pretty hot. So I wanna fuck them. But also, I'm proud of what I accomplished. I have never seen any walkers, joggers, or anyone else try to climb a single one of the four hills I ran up tonight. Not a single one. I have seen quite a few of them heading AWAY from the hills, though.
So anyway, I did some short sprints on the last mile back home, just because I'm really, really bored, and also I am in lousy shape, so you know totally overdoing it is the key to rapidly transforming myself back into the man I once was, right? Sure it is. And with that in mind, I did some chin ups and pushups and weights once I got home.
And I forgot to do abs. Just totally forgot. Of all the stupid ...
So anyway, now my knees are killing me and I'm in desperate need of going to bed. But being a blogger (idiot) I first wanted to write this post and tell the whole world about something that no one really has any reason to be interested in. Because that's what blogging is all about, writing down trivial shit about ourselves that is of no interest to anyone else, and then posting it on the internet for the whole world to see.
And now, something from the past that is kinda sorta related ....
You have read this article humor /
outsourcing
with the title Outsourcing. You can bookmark this page URL https://thebohemianbunny.blogspot.com/2008/07/outsourcing.html. Thanks!
