Okay, well all of my runs are technically rural runs, considering I live in a rural district. But my long run yesterday seemed particularly folksy for some reason. Some issues that arose:
The man in the yellow velvet pants: Maybe I’d call them something more like ochre. A dark yellow. Keep in mind that this was at 6:45am on a Saturday morning. Where were you going velvet-pants man? What sort of event occurs in the dark on weekend morning and requires velvet pants? And why, why yellow?
The confused roosters: Hey roosters, maybe you didn’t know this but dawn only happens once a day. There is no reason for you to be crowing at 7:30 and then again at 8:30 when I pass by on the last leg of my out-and-back.
The playground ghosts: My music lulled just as I passed the elementary school. It was pitch-black out. Suddenly I hear a clanging; the swing set is swinging by itself. Playground ghosts, quit freaking me out at the 2k mark. I’ve got 6k of darkness to get through and more besides.
The pickup truck party: Construction workers, tradespeople, and I guess people who buy a lot of firewood or something are the type of people who a) drive pickup trucks and b) tend to sleep in on Saturday mornings. So why was I passed by at least thirty trucks yesterday morning? Where were you all going? It was a party, wasn’t it? A pickup truck party that I wasn’t invited to because I drive a Corolla. Well, I’ll have you know that I’m officially truck-adjacent because my brother just bought one, and also that I can make some delicious party treats. So invite me next time guys.
The guy walking home in the dark and seeming pretty happy about it: Hey guy, do you realize it’s dark and raining a bit and windy? Why are you so pleased? What’s in your paper bag there? You’re too happy for this time of day, and that’s coming from me. I’m suspicious.
The offended llamas: These guys are pretty much always offended looking. I don’t know if you’ve ever had any dealings with llamas, but they’re a sassy bunch. Why can’t a girl just shout good morning when she’s riding high on endorphins? You were already awake, so don’t give me that look. I feed you guys carrots on the regular, the least you can do is greet me with a smile. Or indifference, as your sheep neighbours across the street do.
The woman walking her three huge Afghan hounds: The first clue that I’m heading into trouble: booming barks that shake me to the core. Please let them be on leash, please let them be on leash, I’m too young to die. Thankfully, the hounds were tethered. Also wearing identical and differently coloured rainjackets, which, under any other circumstance, would have been hilarious. I was just still trying to catch my breath. Lady, the dark is no time to walk your splendidly clothed canines! My imagination already turns trees into the Predator, I don’t need giant dogs to help my nightmares along, thanks.
So it was in a ponderous mood that I concluded my run, a surprisingly easy 20k. I’m glad to be getting back into the higher numbers; any time I drop down I convince myself I’ve lost my fitness and will never be able to run again. Thankfully, these kilometers flew by, although I’m sore today. Tomorrow: more hill-training. Yahoo!