“I ran. I ran until my muscles burned and my veins pumped battery acid. Then I ran some more.”
Narrator (Edward Norton), Fight Club
Holiday aside, here's what went down this month.
As my old New Balance trainers were falling apart and were being described, quite accurately, as “dogshit” by my friends, I figured it was time to get some new ones. When I was about 14 I was using Saucony running shoes for running and for PE in school. Nobody had heard of this brand, despite the fact that they are the best running shoes in any shoe shop in Britain. I got ripped for wearing them, suffice to say.
Today, still nobody has heard of them as Saucony advertises discreetly. You'll probably only see poster ads in running magazines, and TV ads in America or on Youtube. I found a pair of Saucony Grid Ignition in TK Maxx at a bargain price. (It's a store always worth a look in for discount brand names.) And yes, I'm STILL getting ripped for wearing Saucony. I've decided only to wear sportswear for sports from now on. I ran back from a party in them a few weeks ago at about 3am. My Saucony gave me exceptional comfort and cushioning. I was steaming, having drank the majority of a bottle of Jack Daniels (which was still in my hand as I ran) but my trainers didn't let me down. My shocking cardio did, though. It was a very stop-start run. The party was on the other side of a giant hill, and the road had no streetlights. So I ran under the starlight and past barren fields, the odd cow, sheep and horse watching me suspiciously in the dark.
Moving on. I went to Stalybridge with a load of mates last night for my birthday. We got there too late to see Angie Brown's live PA, which I was certifiably gutted about. Here's one of her most-known songs:
Rififi plays R'n'B on the ground floor and House upstairs. I took over a podium in the House room and, well, started busting moves. After a few hours, half cut from loads of Southern Comfort and champagne, I was still breaking it down. A fire exit door opened next to me. A young woman in a suit waved me over to her. She took me into the office. She told me she was the assistant manager and asked me if I was a trained dancer (nope) and would I consider dancing, as a job, in the club?!
Well, yeah, I said. I'd give it a shot.
So she's got my details...
Went to a mate's flat in Uppermill afterwards, didn't have a clue where the taxi rank was, so after a few hours I ran home (3.7 miles) in the pissing rain as the sun came up. Well. It's all character-building, yes? I didn't have my Saucony on this time, though.
One last highlight: my blog is now listed in The Manchizzle, a Manchester-based, blog-based blog. The site includes info for bloggers, and a list of said blogs. Check it out here:
Well, I gotta run. Speak later.