The Saga Continues

Well, yes folks.  I got home last night, and was in the frame of mind for doing.......absolutely nothing.  And I would have done just that except for one small flaw in my thinking......my conscience.  Flipping nuisance that it is, sighs.

NOT me

Yes, ok - I went jogging, double sigh.  Well, the voice at the back of my mind (Yes, there was only one voice thank you) was chipping away, quitely nagging at me to go get them tracksuit top, bottoms and shoes on.  So I changed, begrudgingly, and ventured out into the night.

I'm glad to say that there was no signs of the Polar Bears (it wasn't as cold as before), but those pesky Artic Foxes were heard in the distance (or was that just the traffic).

I set off in the misty gloom that had eerily enveloped the place, masking the street lights and giving them a distinct glow , the odd one flickering as you jog past.  You know, I'm sure they have a proximity sensor to do just that as you go past at night, just to give you the willies.

Like, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm working A-Ok, please walk past me.......(flicker) ha ha, scared ya!!!

Me!!! and some floozy cling on (lol)

Well, I jogged, with intent (or in a tent) and made in past the first hundred yards.  I refused to stop and celebrate that I was still alive. I could have stopped there and then.  But NO, my conscience was doing a number on me tonight, so I merrily jogged along.  Down a (relatively minor) incline and came back up.  Was going well I thought.

'Before you die' look

Come to think of it, I can't help thinking (as I passed another jogger) is why when I jog I see no one looking like this (picture above - Oh, and that's me on the left by the way....yeah, right, lol).  No, what I gets to see is something more akin to the picture to the right, as this is apparently the norm (the so called - 'Before you Die' picture.  So, my theory is, you jog, then jog a bit more and from looking like a fifty year old, you slowly manage to look more like....hmmmm, say 49.  Have some plastic surgery, with a dab of youthful regeneration, and come out looking like a plastic 25 year old, and then marry some rich old person and move to Beverly Hills.

Yep, Saw this (vaguely)

Anyway, I passed the local supermarket (I suppose I should ask them for advertising revenue here but what the heck) and then collapsed from a severe major triple heart attack and died.

Still, I couldn't let that stop me from my objective, and neither could my conscience - let's call her Betty (Yes, a female cause she nags, lol).  So, now, as part on the teeming undead, I got back up and continued forth (with a slight limp) onwards past the supermarket and turned left to come back into Dartmouth.

The Undead

Well, I have to say at this point, I had been overtaken by 5 squirrels, two cats, one dog (who gave me a rather menacing look I may add).  I could still hear those Artic Foxes, or it could have simply been the howling of the undead (see left) as they followed me.  That is surely one major incentive to keep moving let me tell you.And I can honestly say, they sure move funny, as if they were trying to dance.  The head honcho (dressed in red) certainly scared me lots.  Expecially when he did his falsetto "Owww".  He'd never be a singer now!

It's weird when you're jogging out next to a busy road though, as you get quite self-conscience, more so last night as I had become part of the walking dead (Yes, my pace had been reduced to a mere stumbling along by now).  You see these erratic drivers stare at you as they speed on by and you wonder firstly, what are they looking at? (dumb question really, it's me after all), and secondly why am I doing this?.

Other questions then form in your head.  Are they staring cause I've suddenly grown another head.  Am I running (ok - walking) funny??  Is there an identifying marks on my person???  Have I got a large bogie dripping down from my nose (and No, I hadn't in case you asked).  

Anyway, to cut a long story short (too late I hear you cry) I survived.  From there I jogged to the nearby school and then back home and I made it back to my place safe in the knowledge that no one could identify me.I relaxed by sharing my beers with the undead that came back with me.  The foxes I could still hear howling outside (so I shut my windows) and spent the majority of the evening recuperating.

Still, another session complete.  These hill jogging sessions are just toooo much - must concentrate on flat running.  Less technical you see.  Ok - easier then.

Maybe I'll just jog on the spot instead.  Poor Spot.  He had nine lives but must be dwindling down to three by now.

Postscript

Rest in Peace Widget