Spending a Sunday morning with 50,000 people is not my idea of a good time. I'm not a runner, and I really don't like crowds. I've never been able to understand how parents can freak out about safety and germs and keeping their kids on a leash so they don't get taken, then bring them to Bloomsday.
It has less to do with the fact that I could contract a rash than it does my need to feel like I have control over my surroundings at all times. Yes, I can admit that.
I might've given some thought to the fact that it landed the morning after a dance benefit I'd been rehearsing for these last two months. As if my bod weren't sore enough, I decided TO HELL WITH IT and walk 9+ miles. It has less to do with the fact that I could contract a rash than it does my need to feel like I have control over my surroundings at all times. Yes, I can admit that.
I went with my aunts, both of them in their 60's and still spitting fire. That said, being the life of the party in no way corresponds to the ability to walk a 12k in under 2-1/2 hours. I didn't think about that until after I'd successfully roasted. Oh well, last week's burn is this week's golden tan, even if it IS only half my body.
Last time I did this walk, the story goes dark at the top of Doomsday Hill. This time around I was tempted to take a detour and just walk home, since it was about a half-mile away. But no. One thing that hasn't changed? Bloomsday entertainers are positively obnoxious. I'm glad I was never a high school/college boy who thought it was cool to be in a band. (Because yes, coolness is everything.)
0 comments:
Post a Comment