life the universe and everything

Today I turn the answer to the ultimate question about life, the universe and everything. Much as I would like to award myself a day off it is unlikely to happen before the month ends. So I ran to work again today. Legs felt OK - but no better. I feel as if I'm fighting a cold; temperature up a bit and my nose is running. Adding to the fun, I found out this morning that I need to work tonight. So all in all a wonderful birthday so far. I did get some new running socks, which slipped into the dry-for-the-first-time-in-a-week Nike Pegasus.

What is there to write about the run to work that has not already been written? Well, nothing much. This does not make for an inspiring weekday blog post. A couple of guys ran up to my shoulder as I trudged up Parriwi and we started to chat. They were interested in what I was training for and I upped the pace a a bit to keep with them, glad to be running a little quicker and keeping up a conversation. They stopped about a third of the way up the hill - lucky bastards - wished me well and I trundled on. On the bridge I saw a guy in front who in any other month I would not have let get away from me. Another guy passed and I held back the urge to bite. My proud record of never being beaten over the bridge since moving to the new house had been meekly surrendered for the greater good. I felt very grown up with that decision and will later beat myself up for being so bloody soft. As I ran along Barangaroo I was glad to see a third different cruise ship berthed. Had it been one I'd already seen I would have sworn I was actually living a groundhog day.

And so starts the working week with a 14km run done in about 1hr 16.

Right, work to do so I can leave early in time to get home to do some more work. Not a fan of this, eats into my bludging - sorry, blogging time. Will update with the full, glorious details of my run home (expect something along the lines of "I ran home) and my totals (expect 25km) a bit later.

I ran home. It was 25 and a bit km in total. That is unlikely to surprise too many people. My overall average pace today was 5.24/km which is not disastrously slow. And now to cyclist. I emphasis the singular as I try to avoid using hate speak, the language of prejudice. Although there are many cyclists who are fucking morons the per capita cycling-population-to-fucking-moron-cyclist ratio is probabaly similar to that for motorists, pedestrains or the general population. Even runners. No, I would like to tell you about a single cyclist whose name I do not know and I shall therefore call "limp cock."

Now, when you are cycling on the pavement beside a road in which others - men, women, young and old - are cycling, how do you, a fully grown apparently able bodied (though possibly retarded) adult male, not catch yourself thinking "hang about, all of these other cyclists are in the road, and there are lots of people on foot on the footpath (the clue really is in the words) maybe, just maybe I should cycle in the road!" It staggers me. More, it really fucking irritates me because it gives me, as a sometimes-cyclist, a bad rap. Most people are not as forgiving as me and see cyclists only as a collective of morons. Mostly because of the likes of limp cock.

The be fair to limpy, he did eventually get on the road. I know that because he fucking near knocked me over as he went through a red light at a crossing where I and a number of others were crossing.

Fucking moron. Grow some and cycle in the road or catch a fucking bus.

Once again, and just to be crystal clear, my spleen is for limpus and limpus alone.

Now where's my fucking cake, and there better be 42 candles.

(the cyclist bit is mainly for comic effect and I have eaten cake already. Twice.)