Cool Thing About Jogging.
The weather has just changed, just these last few weeks. We have shifted from warm mornings, to cool mornings, you can feel it in the air if you get up early enough.
And I’ve been going to bed early, falling asleep at 8pm stoned on the couch. Stumbling off to bed sometime after that, who knows when, when the air cools. Bruno following along pretty closely. His bulldog face gazing from the bed before I have cleaned my teeth.
So, the cool mornings are so much nicer to jog in. Still in my black running shorts, I love that hairs-standing-on-end business, on my legs before I warm up, every crack, every fanny gets some cool air.
Headphones in. It is the best way to wake up in the day. Still a bit stoned from the night before to take any initial pain away. The muscles are cold, the joints are groaning, ha ha, when I start running. Then it is just a slow, steady, acceleration up to a slow, steady jog. I always wear a hooodie on top in the cool. Covers your face. I like the way the sharp, bright light of the mornings, breaks in sometimes.
Sympathy For The Devil starts in my ears. You’ve got to have one thing to thank our lefty, semi-hippie parents for, from dad I got the Rolling Stones. What have I got Amanda to thank for?
For caring for too much, Amanda would say.
Daniel jogs an hour and a half before me. Every morning.
“That’s why the girls come for this arse, let me tell you,” Daniel would say, licking his finger and putting it out on his derriere. I’m sure that is something I taught him. Very dedicated, is our Daniel. He is in the office before the sun comes up, being a doctor. He eats healthy. Goes to the gym. Then he comes home and goes to bed. Every night. It is the life of a monk.
“Go out, you are not that ugly yet.” Truthful, my brother Daniel is in the prime of his life, 37, blond, handsome.
“The greatest thing that ever happened, was Tindr, mate,” said Daniel. “I can now go out and get laid like you guys always could.”
Strictly sex, Daniel says he doesn’t have time for anybody in his life. But he does do booty calls, the advantage of being handsome and living in the inner suburbs.
“They mean nothing to me,” said Daniel. “But I make it very clear that they mean nothing to me.”
“You’d be a charmer.”
“With Charm, Josh my boy, with charm,” said Daniel. “Not like I just told you.”
Lygon Street is empty, it is a different beast when the trattorias are closed, and the tourists have left. It is just as wind swept and melancholy as any other early morning city street. All that concrete has no purpose, at this sunrise hour. I hear my footsteps echo under verandas. I see the shadows. I run passed the dark corners that are no longer illuminated with people laughing. I feel the cold, not warmed by the peel of laughter. I enjoy the solitude of such an early hour.
And I’ve been going to bed early, falling asleep at 8pm stoned on the couch. Stumbling off to bed sometime after that, who knows when, when the air cools. Bruno following along pretty closely. His bulldog face gazing from the bed before I have cleaned my teeth.
So, the cool mornings are so much nicer to jog in. Still in my black running shorts, I love that hairs-standing-on-end business, on my legs before I warm up, every crack, every fanny gets some cool air.
Headphones in. It is the best way to wake up in the day. Still a bit stoned from the night before to take any initial pain away. The muscles are cold, the joints are groaning, ha ha, when I start running. Then it is just a slow, steady, acceleration up to a slow, steady jog. I always wear a hooodie on top in the cool. Covers your face. I like the way the sharp, bright light of the mornings, breaks in sometimes.
Sympathy For The Devil starts in my ears. You’ve got to have one thing to thank our lefty, semi-hippie parents for, from dad I got the Rolling Stones. What have I got Amanda to thank for?
For caring for too much, Amanda would say.
Daniel jogs an hour and a half before me. Every morning.
“That’s why the girls come for this arse, let me tell you,” Daniel would say, licking his finger and putting it out on his derriere. I’m sure that is something I taught him. Very dedicated, is our Daniel. He is in the office before the sun comes up, being a doctor. He eats healthy. Goes to the gym. Then he comes home and goes to bed. Every night. It is the life of a monk.
“Go out, you are not that ugly yet.” Truthful, my brother Daniel is in the prime of his life, 37, blond, handsome.
“The greatest thing that ever happened, was Tindr, mate,” said Daniel. “I can now go out and get laid like you guys always could.”
Strictly sex, Daniel says he doesn’t have time for anybody in his life. But he does do booty calls, the advantage of being handsome and living in the inner suburbs.
“They mean nothing to me,” said Daniel. “But I make it very clear that they mean nothing to me.”
“You’d be a charmer.”
“With Charm, Josh my boy, with charm,” said Daniel. “Not like I just told you.”
Lygon Street is empty, it is a different beast when the trattorias are closed, and the tourists have left. It is just as wind swept and melancholy as any other early morning city street. All that concrete has no purpose, at this sunrise hour. I hear my footsteps echo under verandas. I see the shadows. I run passed the dark corners that are no longer illuminated with people laughing. I feel the cold, not warmed by the peel of laughter. I enjoy the solitude of such an early hour.
Comments
Post a Comment