I took up running earlier this year. Well, perhaps 'took up' isn't strictly accurate, but I manage to go running a couple of times a week and I figure that's a start. Not far, mind you. Just enough to keep my heart pounding for the requisite fifteen or twenty minutes. So far the experience has been far more pleasant than I expected, especially since I loathed running at school with the sort of passion one normally reserves for stewed prunes or proctological examinations. Or proctological exams that involve stewed prunes.
Typically I run around 7 to 7:30ish, depending on what time the kids are tucked safely in bed and how quickly I can get changed into my 'running gear.' - This is in fact just a white T-shirt and a pair of shorts I have reserved for running. I call them, rather ingeniously, my 'running shorts.' Catchy, I think.
I was expecting wheezing, waves of nausea, cramping, and the fervent desire to die rather than take one more step. Thankfully none of the above actually materialized, which I put down to the rather more mature attitude to running that I now have. That is, if it feels bad, stop doing it so hard. Works wonders. Anyway, I was mentally prepared for the rigors of mind-numbing pain, but I wasn't prepared for was the eerie absence of other human beings.
Oh, there's no one around at 7:30, apparently. The houses are all lit, but they might was well be empty facades for all the signs of human habitation. It's like being on the set of a post-apocalyptic disaster movie. On the other hand, there's no shortage of life. Or noise. That was the other thing I wasn't ready for; just how damn noisy it is. I mean, I've been out at night before, but usually you're in a car or with other people. Out by myself, all I can hear is the gentle whoosh of my laboring lungs and the eardrum rupturing chirping of every manner of chitin-toting, love-starved insect.
It's not like in the movies you know. I mean, I expected the gentle whirr and occasional 'chirrup' of one or two crickets acting as a subtle aural backdrop to whatever was going on outside. It would be noticeable only when it stopped, which of course is only moments before our hero is attacked by the outlaws / space aliens / prune-wielding proctologist.
Not so.
It so bloody loud I can barely hear myself think. God knows what these buggers eat, but they must be the size of small cows. Actually, I know what they eat, of course. Me. The other thing I've discovered while running at night is that not only are insects loud but the ones that like human blood are incredibly persistent (and what self-respecting insect doesn't want to gorge itself into chitin-cased-crapulence on my warm, salty fluid,) and sadly highly successful. The mosquitoes bite you *through* your clothes. I mean, that's just not fair, damn it. I spray all the bits that stick out (now, missus, none of that tittering,) so they just stick those inch-long razor sharp and titanium coated probosci through my t-shirt and shlurp up my vital fluids anyway. Lovely.
Thanks Mother nature, that's another one I owe you. Next time someone tells me to recycle to preserver the eco-system, I'll remind him or her that the sodding eco-system takes great welt-raising bites out of me every time I step out the front door.
A few nights ago I was jogging alone when I rounded a corner and found myself rapidly bearing down on an elderly lady with a small dog out for an evening stroll. It did occur to me that at least the small dog probably attracted the mosquitoes away. Anyway, this would normally nothing to write home about, but well, this *is* Texas. Suddenly I was gripped with fear. What if she thinks I'm some kind of mugger? Or worse, a elderly-lady-molesting pervert out for some action? I mean, what if she's *armed*?
In the end I just huffed my way past making as much noise as I could so that at least she wouldn't be startled. I mean, anyone who actually saw me coming would know I was perfectly safe. What with the heat, the gasping for air and the blood loss from the clouds of parasitic insects, I'm so weak she could probably mug *me.* Hmm. Maybe I should start carrying a gun.
Or a small dog.