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42 Ks in 42 Days 

Day 12 – Hoofin’ It In Hampton

So it’s noon on Saturday and I am sitting at my friend Chris Fudge’s house, watching cartoons and typing away on my laptop. Chris’ son Tolan is transfixed by the dancing vegetables on the screen, which will hopefully give me enough time to type up a quick blog. I doubt he’ll find Mircosoft Word very fascinating, but if he comes over to play I might just put him to work. Do I write better than a two year old? We just might find out.

The thought of going home for the weekend was exciting and distracting, so I can’t say work was overly productive. I sat through a couple of meetings and made the requisite number of phone calls, but as soon as it was time to leave I was out the door. The sun blazed through the crisp autumn air as I shuffled to my apartment, which confirmed my belief that autumn favourite time of year. It’s cooler than summer, more colorful than spring, and just plain better than winter (sorry winter, but I can totally do without freezing rain and frostbite). If I could find a location where I could enjoy the fall air every day, I would move there and never leave.

Getting back to Saint John is never a problem because about half of the youth population currently lives in Halifax, it seems. I moved up with six people a few years ago, and since then at least a dozen of my friends (probably more, but I am a writer, not a math major) have followed. We all miss it though, so there’s always a convoy of people traveling there on weekends and holidays. My good friend Melissa Friars picked me up this time around, and we spent the next four hours listening to comedy CDs and catching up with the latest local gossip. I am a notorious car sleeper, but the conversation was juicy enough that I only nodded off once. For someone who once slept for 16 hours straight in a minivan, that’s impressive.

I arrived at Chris’ house (he actually lives in Hampton, not Saint John, just to clarify) around 9PM and found him standing outside in full running gear. He’s not an avid athlete, but he recently bought a new pair of running shoes and wanted to start a workout regimen. I was happy to oblige, partially because I like helping out my friends, and partially because I knew running with him would keep me from running too fast. It was his first time out in many moons, so I proposed an easy 15-minute out-and-back run.

Once we started out, however, I realized that running from Chris’ house was anything but easy. His house is surrounded by large, rolling hills, so we spent the entire time killing our quads and crushing our calves. Chris was a good sport about it though, and we managed to run about five kilometers before retiring to his loft for a drink and a recording session. Next time we run together, though, we are finding a flatter, faster course.

I’d love to chat longer, but Chris is outside working on his house and I should probably help out. The quicker we clean the chimney (not only is it dirty, it’s inhabited by a family of bats, the quicker we can map out tomorrow’s 20 mile run. He better not work me too hard, or I’m going invite his new bat friends into the living room to stretch their wings.


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