Dragons

I don't really feel like I have much to say about my recent runs. They've been very uninspiring and, naturally, this hasn't inspired me to write anything. Make sense? I thought so. Still, I wish I was Mike -- that is, I wish I had scones, kids, or art to go off on tangents about because that would allow me more to write about than the fact that most of training is just boring-ass miles at boring-ass paces. This all, of course, is in addition to running broing-ass routes boring-ass alone in the midst of cold-ass bordom.

Last night on my return trip down ODC I came across a strong smell of spray paint. This was as I was just past that park at about the 2k mark (where there are always guys playing basketball), heading West. I didn't really think about the smell because, with Aviation Parkway and the trains both right there, industrial smells aren't unusal. However, as I came up to a point where there was a break in the wall next to the running path (and the place where this smell was most definitely coming from), two teenagers casually stepped out from the side and began walking. One even had his cell phone to his ear.

How could these two young men be responsible for this late-night, still wet, tagging when they are just talking on their cell phones and walking like their dicks are about 40 pounds and stuck in their right pant legs? Needless to say, there is a ghost on ODC somewhere. And it's a criminal!


10 on ODC in 70.