I have a favorite trail that I like to run during my lunch hour. It’s not a challenging trail. It’s nicely paved and wide enough for two runners to run side by side. It winds past the river and out past the university. My typical loop takes me past the university and then across the iron bridge. The bridge has decking made up of wood on one side and metal sheeting on the other. To run on the wood is to run on an uneven surface. Boards creak and grunt as my footfalls push them down. To run on the metal is to run on a slick, spongy surface. I would be lying if there have not been times I thought the sheeting was going to give way and drop me ten feet down into the river. From the bridge the trail splits with one side sticking to the water and the other going through a short tunnel. The former is a longer stretch and both meet up again. A retirement community boarders the trail. From there, the trail leads into a local park and the downtown of my city. This dear reader is not the anecdote. This post is not one but two anecdotes.
Anecdote one. I am running the trail in late Spring. I notice an older lady sitting on a rock outcrop that overlooks the river. As I draw closer I notice she has what appears to be a rather expensive rig (think Vincent Vega style rig (not for driving but for shooting up) circa Pulp Fiction). This pleasant looking older woman appears to be in the process of tying off to shoot up…I run on.
Anecdote two. It is Summer I have ran through the park and am taking another poorly maintained wooden bridge out of the park. As I run across I see a homeless man shuffling across the bridge with his pants mostly around his ankles. As I run past him I notice his abnormally large (should be in the movies) penis. He sees my glance and begins shouting, “Hey mutherfucka, hey mutherfucka!” His shuffle gains speed and I am being chased by a homeless man across a rickety wooden bridge, whose member swings pendulously from side to side, and is shouting profanities…I run on.
averagejoerunner 