I got home last night at about 7PM, which is rather bizarre for me and not knowing what to do I was peace out on my couch within 15 minutes of walking through the door. At about 1:30AM I woke up, and my body was all freaked the fuck out because I've conditioned it to know that it shouldn't expect more than five hours a sleep unless it's the middle of the afternoon on a weekend in which case all bets are off. So being that it was pitch black body and mind were at a crossroads. "You must stay up and rage," one of them said. I have no idea which one at this point. "No said the other, you must try to sleep because there is a work day ahead." Whichever one wanted me to stay up watching Definitely Maybe for the 50th time won, and come 7AM I'm wired like I've been freebasing Powerthirst. 400 babies!
That all really has nothing to do with anything other than setting up why the hell I went running this morning, because it's very well documented how much I despise that noise. But off I went, 24 degrees, rocking my trademark capris, stiff breeze - not really but I got into a rhyming thing and didn't want to lose the momentum.
Anyway, I'm at about four or five miles into the run when I pass the Crunch gym on Bowery and 13th. If you have no idea what or where that is, they have this big window running down 13th where all the treadmills are. So I'm buring down 13th, hitting a decent clip, and I look at these poor fuckers churning away on treadmills, and for this split second I completely pity them. It was like being a wild beast on the Savannah staring at a caged lion. And I started to think about how shitty it must be to be them. Sure they're warmer than I am, but when they get finished with their run what will they feel? Satisfaction? Pride? Elation? Awesome? Or just relieved?
Then I got a little mad, because fuck them. How dare those tourists dilute the awesome of my sport. Ride a stationary bike or do some pilates, but don't run if you don't love it. Don't just do it to do it or to stay in shape. Do it because no matter how hard it can be to get out the door you're NEVER disappointed when you're done. Do it because the extra mile, or final pickup is always a great idea. Do it because you can, not just because you think you have to.
Whatever, to each their own. My running snobbery has been well documented here so anyone concerned I'm overly critical of runners I don't know you probably have a point. But this morning I was a lion, and they were the antelope, and next time I meet one of them on the Savannah you can only imagine who's going down.