Runnings

On police shows, there’s always a chase, often on foot. Someone yells, “Run!” and they’re off.  Sometimes my response is, “Oh, bother.  There they go again.”  Then my mind wanders away to more mundane styles of running.  After all, how many of us run to catch a thief?  Or run away from police, for that matter?

How about the running of the bulls in Pamplona, Spain?  No registration necessary, but no alcohol on the run, which is open to everyone over 18 years old.  Nothing else, just good running shoes.  That’s a dangerous running, to say the least.  Think gorings, sprains, deaths.  Not for me, thank you very much.

Ski runs used to be okay, but that’s far in my rearview mirror by now.  But I remember plenty of runnings down the hills…we don’t have mountains nearby.  The days after a deep fluffy snowstorm were the best, with powder shooting off in rooster tails as I made deep turns.  Much better than those end-of-season runs on slush, or icy, slopes.  Do I miss it?  Not really, but it was sure fun at the time.

Of course, here in Wisconsin, skiing brings to mind the running of the Birkebeiner, fondly known as the Birkie.  The 31-mile cross country ski race commemorates the smuggling of the Norwegian infant prince to safety in 1206.  This running draws up to 10,000 skiers from all over the world.  One of our friends has skied this event every year, as a matter of pride, and fun, of course.  Would I do it?  Nope!  Another event shuttled off to the side of being a spectator, if anything.  (And that actually goes for any long running.  Marathons are out, for sure!)

There are more prosaic runnings of course, such as the necessary grocery run when discovering that you’ve run out of an essential ingredient for tonight’s dinner…which is supposed to be served in less than an hour.  Oh yes, I’ve been there.  The shout is “I’ll be right back!  Don’t panic, dinner’s coming.”  And off you go.  It’s worse if you have a houseful of holiday company.  That means breaking out the good wine you saved for later, or digging in the back closet for the packs of soda you hid from the kids.  Some people despise any grocery run under pressure, or dealing with crowds, so they save those trips for ungodly hours when the checkers are snoozing at the till because no one else is there.  Not my style…but it’s been done in a pinch anyway.

Runs in hosiery used to be a regular thing, but improvements in materials have pretty much negated that problem.  Unless you absolutely have to wear nylons, most women don’t even realize there used to be a problem.  Who forces themselves into pantyhose anymore?  Not too many women.  I’m quite glad to trash the comment “I’ve got a ladder!” and leave that wording to painters and those who still clean out their gutters by hand.  (So, what’s a hosiery ladder, you ask?  That’s a series of horizontal holes up the back of the leg that makes the run look like rungs on a ladder.)  I’m glad to kiss that running goodbye!

Runs of good and bad luck can thrill or depress.  Sometimes what looks like a run of bad luck can actually turn into a run of good luck.  Running late seems to be a run of bad luck, but if you pass an accident on your way to wherever you’re going, it pays to remember that if you were actually early or on time, that could be you sitting with a crumpled front fender.  I suppose it cold work the other way too, but I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, just in case something goes sour.  Just sayin’…look for the silver lining.

My favorite running is my nose.  Well, maybe favorite isn’t the right word, seeing as how my nose running sends me running for a tissue.  Why does it happen so often when I’m eating?  Is the food really that hot that the steam goes up my nose and causes a drip or two?  It seems so, it happens often enough.  But there’s a sunny side.  The really good thing about noses running is that when the nose runs, it takes me with it.  I don’t like being left behind.

Speaking of running…time to run off to the gym.  Where I don’t really run…

Runner Stickman Cartoon · Free vector graphic on Pixabay