Born to Run
Cool Runnings
Run It, Run It
Baby, Run More Time
You're the Run that I Want
Run't Stop (Thinking About Tomorrow)
Naked Run
The Rescuers Down Runder
Run, Two, Three, Four
The Arsenal Runnars
Runderwall
Rungry Like the Wolf
Seriously, I could go on this marathon of a runpage forever--but I won't.
Anyway, just wanted to jog your memories--re: the greatness of running.
And funnily enough--like so many things--running is even better in Rundon--er, London.
First of all, there are loads of parks--Hyde, Regents, Green, Greenwhich--if you're jonesing for a scenic little jaunt. Now you have to be warned, this scenic jaunt tends to include loads of drippy couples white-knuckling each others' hands with nauseating cuteness, all-too public displays of affection, 'couplesy' picnics with TWO glasses, TWO plates and FOUR eyes laserbeaming into each other. And then they senselessly ogle the puppies and little children like a pack of slobbering school girls with cartoon hearts rising like convection waves above their thick skulls. It's not what you would call tasteful scenery. But if my outlook on these people sounds negative, not to worry! I take heart in the fact that while they get fat on brie, wine, and chocolate, I am running (over their picnics).
If the park isn't to your taste--as it often isn't--London also boasts some great waterfront paths along the Thames. These paths are also sweet because they hit up most of the iconic hotspots--Tower Bridge, the Tower, St. Paul's, Temple, the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, The London Eye, the London Aquarium, etc. Swell! That said, especially on weekends, they are replete with touristas. If I had a beer for every time--while running--I've seen someone take the picture on the South Bank with their finger "pushing over" or "squashing" Big Ben, I would be comatose. In fact, if I see it again, I probably will go comatose with boredom, filled with absolute distaste for the lack of creativity our species often possesses.
Speaking of comatose, let's talk some more about tourists and herds of people in general. I think it's rumoured that we share something like 90% of our genetic make-up with cattle; I'd wager that with further study, we're closer to sharing 99% of our DNA with--specifically--inbred mules. We even make that lowing din, while our cell phones clang like pocket-sized Bessie bells. Generally, the most muleish tourists congregate in large numbers around the London Eye and the Tower of London. Maybe there's a giant magnet for mule-mans at these places. If so, that'd be great; we could collect these muleman beings and dispose of them in a rolling field somewhere. They probably wouldn't know the difference. At least the running routes would be clearer.
Bitching and moaning aside, I do really love running in London and it's so much easier to run for longer--I ran for an hour-and-a-half on Sunday! Maybe I should run more in order to deploy more endorphins to kick my foul mood re: lovebirds and tourists!
xox
HC
