I remember a conversation I had around a campfire (at a group campsite after a fun night trail race) with an elite runner once a few years ago - she was saying that “they want me to stop trail racing and just focus on the marathon”, and I said I was glad to be mediocre enough that no-one tells me what to do with my running. I can just race whatever makes me happy!
I know this is about Surfing/Surfers but it could also apply to Running/Runners
#MakeRunningWeirdAgain
#MakeRunnersWeirdAgain
I don’t usually stop on my runs but as I am doing a walk / run injury routine at the moment I took some time today to absorb some of the scenery. These people relaxing today made me happy.
C’mon man! Ya gotta straighten the horizon on that shit!!!
Good point — caught me off guard. That section of the run is all about the activity on the beach. The unadulterated horizon line meditation section begins about 500m further on. Unfortunately It is indoor bike today : (
Promenade, Cape May NJ, around Dawn, two different Summer mornings
Or, as I like to call it, “The Ponytail Parkway” for the number of women I’ve seen out there in the morning outnumber the men 8:1, at least
That’s a beautiful spot!
When I die, I have have requested that half of my ashes be spread at the beach/in the ocean (or on the Boardwalk, if they can manage it), and half at a park in Philadelphia
Molly has joined Substack
My years of grabbing bottles off folding tables are now completly wasted, and instead I have to get comfortable racing with a variety of soft flasks and bottles strapped to my body in ever-increasingly uncomfortable means. I’m already quite sensitve to sensory stimuli as a spectrumy girlie, so this is a fucking nightmare and results in me trying to carry as little as possible. I’m not even trying to be minimalist, I just HATE how it feels to be touched by that many things for so long. Hence why I threw a mild fit at needing to wear a vest, and blatantly refused to carry hand bottles.
The nice thing about ultramarathon is that you eventually get to a point where your body hurts so much you barely even notice the sensory nightmare.
… It was at this moment that my coach Cliff decided that the fatigue had worn my neurodiversity down enough to handle some extra stimulation, so he strapped a soft hand bottle to me while my girlfriend was trading my two front bottles. I love my coach deeply, but in that moment I was closer than I’ve ever been to punching him right in the face. The BETRAYAL. The TRICKERY. I had gotten got.
I can absolutely hear her voice, narrating
My neighbours and I have started communicating and spreading a little happiness around by drawing in snowbanks - seen around my hood over the last few weeks:
(A kid had written their name, probably on their way to or from the elementary school a block away - I added this)
(Was hard to get all this in one shot - a kid had written a swear word, which I “erased” and wrote “Have a great day!” nearby)
Olympic sentiments
The same kid (by the handwriting) wrote another swear word, which I erased and replaced with this
Snow-fitti!!!
This week’s Like The Wind newsletter included a link to this video
ONE-SHOT take of Talk Radio running the length of their record, Another Life.
Compo Beach, CT
Feels Like Temp.: -9°
The last song is their cool-down
Did I map it? They hadn’t, so … You DO know me, right?
3.5 miles in 23:something? Not bad at all!!!
More importantly - I like them. They have something of a Tame Impala sound, perhaps?
Another consideration has revealed itself
File under “Things that make you happy when OTHER people run”
New Jersey Rock Legend Matt Pinfield running in LA
Form isn’t great, I agree, but the dude did have a stoke last January
Today after a really hot long bike and A ROTB was running and then diving into the sea. The feel of that cold sea water on your back and diving under the water to finally feel some reprieve from the heat.
I got on the Like The Wind magazine’s newsletter almost exactly two years ago
I was happy with the email delivery, and intrigued that the envisioned themselves as sort of of the Surfer’s Journal of Running: high quality writing, matched with equal level of Art, photography, and design, delivered quarterly, WITHOUT ads (this was most) important
However, as they started up in the UK, the stories were kinda of Euro-centric, and I felt no need to subscribe - newsletter and links thereof were fine with me
When they announced that they were launching their US edition “Spring 2026” I was intrigued
I followed the links to pre-order US Issue #1
There was a time when I was a Comic Book Guy. There are only TWO books/series of which I own Issue #1: Spawn, and The Maxx (RIP Sam Kieth)
I probably have others in my bins, but those stand out, because the rest never went anywhere
However, as I learned as a DJ/Bartender in a Strip Club “theres a market for anyone”
As I was in the Checkout for LtW US #1, I was offered an opportunity to bundle some back issues, half off & free shipping from UK
The selections were probably random, but why the fuck not?
“ADD TO CART”
LtW US #1 wasn’t set to print/deliver for a while on the pre-order, but the UK’s came pretty quickly (make a joke here, if you care to)
I have to say, I was BEYOND Satisfy’d (yeah, THOSE guys)
Large format, sturdy covers, that amazing “fresh ink” smell
I received two Issues:
#6 has an embossed cover featuring a topographic map of Mont Blanc reflecting the UTMB course
#13 - you know how people with #13 will flip their bib upside-down to say “31?” This issue is split in half, where on side is upside-down from the other = you start reading, then - at the center- you have to flop it over, and go from the other side = two covers, no back
I’m burying the lede here, and I apologize. Let me get onto business
Like The Wind is built on contributions - you got something? Send it in!!
Contributors get to write their own “profile” for each article, along with their contact/social info, if they care to
On the LAST page of Issue #6, the author described himself as “pleasure runner”
I relate to that
I just run. I race infrequently, let’s say
It’s better than “Hobby Jogger” wouldn’t you agree?
Yeah, Running IS my hobby; by some metrics, I’m just Jogging. But I’m running for the Pleasure* it gives me
- I am aware that the word “Pleasure” gets filthy for some people - check yourself, ya pervy motherfuckers
I’ve mentioned before that I frequently run past a Funeral Home up the street
I’ve seen a casket company make a bulk delivery, and I figured out that the strange scent I’d sometimes pick up at the corner was coming from neither the Domino’s across the street, nor was it an errant welding kit, when I noticed smoked billowing from their small chimney
A couple days ago, I ran past and the parking lot was empty, as it usually is, I must say
The thing was, just the day before, I read a poem by Alicia Cook from her book The Music Was Just Getting Good
Her poems don’t have titles, they are numbered; each book/collection is called a Mixtape
Track Twenty-Four
I always feel an odd sense of relief whenever I pass a funeral home and notice that the parking lot is empty
No one in this particular neighborhood is sucking on stale mints, while someone they know is breathless, seen into the last dress they’ll ever wear
No one is watching themselves smile in a slideshow, a picture frame, or on a glossy poster board from Walgreens, while coming to grips with never being that person again
No one is having any of those other eccentric, private thoughts in a public space that buzzes with the constant, low hum of elevator music and sporadic sobbing
No one is wondering if they should walk around a greet people they only see when they have a dead person in common
No one is wondering where they are going to put all those flowers or casseroles, since there isn’t enough space in the house or refrigerator for all that sorrow
No one will have to keep a list of who sent what, to write Thank You notes for later “Thanks for acknowledging my person died with a fruit basket!”
No one needs to find where the extra lightbulbs are hidden in the basement or decode passwords or worry about how many death certificates to request
No one needs to fear what tomorrow will be like, or the next day or the next
That is because no one is here. The parking lot is empty. What a relief