In-debt, Fat, Short with Bad Teeth

Ahhh running.

Maybe it’s just the runner’s high from yesterday, but I’m waxing poetical about running. And while it’s getting a tad colder in Canberra, and also the sun has pretty much set by the time I get home, so I don’t have the opportunity to do my Bridge-To-Bridge run, I am substituting it for some good ol’ treadmill time.

Of course I am by no means a marathon runner. If any of you are picturing a svelte antelope-like creature, bounding tirelessly over the tarmac of the city jungle-scape, you’ve got the wrong blogger in mind.

But there’s something zen-like about loosing yourself in your stride. Ear phones drowning out your measured, rhythmic, sometimes gasping breath. Drowning out the distant burr of traffic. Drowning out the wavering sounds of the conversations of others as you pass them by. A watery grave of melody and music surrounds everything around you.

And…

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