Some people think running is boring. You’re out there. No music, no friends, no cell phone. Just you and the road, or the trail. What could possibly happen? Well… a lot actually. Welcome to Tales from the road.
Tales from the road Vol 1: It was a cold Christmas morning
It was a cold, seriously cold Xmas morning and I was out for a 17 mile run. This was many years ago. I was still in college. My 17 mile route took me down rt 37 in Braintree and then hooked down by Circuit City (R.I.P), and past the office park that sits beside the Braintree Mall. As I rounded the corner into the office park I looked up and saw two middle aged men hovering over a briefcase.
The moment they noticed me they both stood bolt straight, snapped the case shut and booked it for their cars. There was something about their body language that screamed ‘oh shit it’s the cops.’ They hastily ran to their cars and I ran across the mall parking lot towards Common street thinking ‘What in the hell was that? A drug deal? Was it a black market tickle me Elmo sale (that was the hot toy that Christmas)?’
‘Maybe it was the briefcase from Pulp Fiction?’
The contents of the briefcase (both in the movie and irl) will remain a mystery. My gut tells me cocaine.
In truth, this wouldn’t be the only time something like this happened while I’m out for a run. I’ve seen things; crazy things; things you wouldn’t believe. Ask around, I’m not the most observant guy. When I run I get tunnel vision. My mother once boxed my ears for running past a group of her friends and not saying hello.
‘Right by them?’
‘Same side of the street.’
My defense: I honestly never saw them. And that’s the truth. I’m sorry Mrs. McKinnon. Tunnel vision.
In Greek tragedy it is often the blind characters who see things clearest. So art imitates life, for even I, the unobservant one, Mr Tunnel Vision, have noticed some crazy shit while out for a run. My running routes take me through wood and trail, down ill trodden paths where people think they’re alone, often early in the morning or late at night (when freaks come out). Sometimes, as has been noted, I’m in the wrong place at the wrong time. From time to time im in the wrong place at the right time. You need proof. You need more tales from the road.
Tales from the road vol 2: The Wedding crasher
Imagine you’re a young man, desperately in love. You have the conversation with her father, plunk down two months salary on a ring and then you wait. This moment has to be special. You wait until one summer night you’re strolling on the Charles River. You’re all alone, hand in hand with your lady love, the sun is setting on the far side of the river, a brilliant pink and orange. This is unquestionably the moment. You take a knee, reach in your pocket, start that speech you’ve rehearsed a hundred times and then…
What’s that sound? Heavy breathing? Feet skimming across the pavement. You’re not alone. There’s a runner, just in time to blow up your perfect moment.
This happened to me twice on one run. One proposal by the Hatch shell and another one by the exercise station near BU. Beautiful hallmark moments ruined by this third wheel running past and muttering ‘sorry’. The looks I got that night… How’s that Southwest Airlines commercial go?
Tales from the 4oad vol. 3: Ruining the Moment
When it comes to romance, other people’s romance, you’re never in the right place at the right time. Either you’re ruining the moment (proposals) or you’re ruining the moment. I’ve run past people in the moment (catch my drift?). More than once. One of these people happened to be a cop.
How do I know he was a cop? As has been noted I’m no detective, but his uniform was on. Hell, his squad car was parked right there in the woods.
I ran away as fast as I could because I live my life by three rules.
- Don’t play cards against someone named for a city.
- Don’t try and win a marital argument with logic.
- When you catch an officer of the law in commission of a crime look the other way and hope that karma returns the favor.
How’s that Southwest commercial go again?
Call shenanigans if you want (I neglected to get the badge #) but I was there, I wouldn’t make this up to impress the dozens, literally dozens, of people who read my blog.
The time I met Batman
You want funny? How about the time I finished a 20 mile run on the Mugar way. I was wrecked. Could hardly walk straight. Sweat just oozing out of me. Salt rings staining my clothes. Up walks this beautiful woman.
Thi ls is the most beautiful women I’ve ever laid eyes on. As she approaches I hear Etta James sing ‘At Last’ somewhere in the background. So I take a moment, fix my hair and then remember that I just ran 20 miles. In heat. Not even the guys from ‘Queer eye’ could have made me presentable. Basically I looked like Daffy Duck with his beak shot off.
Meanwhile, She had her boyfriend with her. A girl like this has to have a stud for a boyfriend, right?
WRONG.
He was like 5′ 6″, weighed an emaciated 120, balding with a comb over. He was carrying two Whole Foods grocery bags for her (so that’s how it is). How the hell does this chump get a girl like that? I looked closer, I had to see him, learn his secret. I looked into his beady little eyes and got my answer. Because I knew him. You know him too. Here’s his picture.
That’s right. I saw Batman and his girlfriend. She looked like you’d expect Batman’s girlfriend would look. He was in town filming ‘the Fighter’. He won an oscar for playing a drug addict former boxer. He looked the part.
Speaking of actors, you ever see an actor in something and just hate them. I’ve always thought the guy who played Robin Williams’ son in ‘Birdcage’ was annoying. I saw him out for a run once. He’d tripped, fallen, and was rubbing his knee in pain. Whatever. Don’t know him, may be nice for all I know, but I hate that guy.
Tales from the road vol 4: Me vs the New Kids
Another eventful Braintree run. I cut off a guy trying to pull into his driveway. The driver honked at me. In this case I was clearly in the wrong; but I flipped him off anyway. I get horns all the time (most not my fault). Before I can even think out flies my middle finger.
It’s important to remember that, on the whole, drivers mess with runners. We’re inconvenient. The middle finger is a reflex. A defense mechanism. Hell, from time to time I’ve flipped off friends and relatives giving me a ‘hello’ beep. Whoops. Sorry Dad. Thought you were someone else. Don’t take it personal.
So yeah, this guy honks (justified), instinct takes over, and the middle finger comes flying out. The driver is, in a word, pissed. He takes the time to roll down his window and tells me to ‘Go F myself’. The driver was one Donny Wahlberg. When I realized what I’d done I stopped, apologized and told him what a big fan I was. ‘Hanging Tough’ is a master work.
Just kidding. I kept running.
It was like this photo, but with one less finger.
I’ve seen it all. In sum, I’ve seen Couples fighting in parked cars; Kids smoking weed behind their parent’s house; Teenage beer bashes. I’ve run into Movie stars; crashed Movie sets (The Town, Ted, some zoo movie); jogged past commercials. I’ve witnessed Car accidents (a car took a dive off a 15 foot bridge and miraculously no one was hurt), Trysts, Proposals, Drug deals (I think). Ive come across Moose, Turtles, coyotes, Deer, Hunters (never been shot at but my friend Steve Mac has).
To conclude, all this is just the tip of the iceberg. I’ve seen things man; In spite of my tunnel vision I’ve got good stories next time we’re at a party. And still some people think running is boring. Well sign up for a race; get out on the road; run down some back alleys and short cut paths. See for yourself.