Bug in Mouth Disease
Pheidippides proved that it could be done. Following the epic battle of Marathon, the Greek hero ran to Athens to announce the victory of the Athenians over the Persians. 42km, 26 miles; of running. To end the famous tale, Pheidippides died upon arrival. Although the greek legend transpired nearly 2500 years ago, the distance is still routinely traversed on foot. Although running has now become the battle itself, one aspect of the bittersweet event still rings true with runners everywhere. Despite endless hours of training, seemingly space age advances in technology, and scientific research, I routinely experience near death experiences out on the roads. Cause of death would not be reported as vehicular or accidental.... not suicide... not homicide.... it would be an incurable case of bug in mouth disease; the rarely reported death by insect: insecticide.
The next section should be read with caution, as many runners will cringe and cower from the graphic descriptions about to be presented. Insecticide begins with impairment of vision: the view ahead, of otherwise sunny space, becomes murky and forboding; like a dirty thumbprint on a contact lense. As you approach, you notice others emerging from the smog, waving yet unseen objects away from their face. When the light hits the smog in just the right way, you notice the definition among its objects; a cloud of insects swarming like a plague of locusts, rising like a geyser into the heavens.
Although the objects are now defined, there is little escape, for it is already too late. Because of an innate sense of the perfect annoyance coordinates, the insects have staked a claim to your destined sidewalk square, and there is nothing you can do about it. You can swerve, sway or duck, but there is no avoiding; momentum's a bitch.
Like the first raindrop splashing on a windshield, the first insect splattering on your forehead primes you for the imminent assault. The body's response is a clear case of evolutionary adaptation, every species has one for their most feared environmental afflictions. Like a camel battening down the hatches during a sandstorm, the human runner purses the lips and squints the eyes in the face of a bugstorm. Depending on the severity of the attack, a scientific property known as swarm-depth, the body can switch into a fight or flight state of survival: holding the breath and running at breakneck speeds in order to escape the cloud.
Although, I loathe these insects, and their affinity for my lungs, I cannot help but respect them for their persistence and courage. Thats right, I said courage. From the research I have conducted, it has become apparent that these flies live for a very short period of time, and spend the majority of their lives reproducing; an ethos of peace and love. To them, my heavy footsteps and unwavering trajectory must be an equally forboding image, as I approach their heavenward spiral of copulation. Now I ask you, if a giant of Godzilla-like proportion was bearing down on your peaceful society, would you be throw your body into the face of the beast? It is as if each fly that I remove from my hair, nostrils and eyelids following a run is like a fallen soldier in an ongoing war to preserve the ways of their society. How can one not be in awe of their skills in combat; the ability to single-handedly take down a giant foe unseen since David felled mighty Goliath with nothing more than a slingshot.
Legends are rife with poisonings and deception, destiny and divine intervention but, in retrospect, Pheidippides was most definitely struck down by this same affliction. An Athenian warrior, unscathed in battle, and able to traverse the distance to Athens, suddenly falls dead. Like another famous Greek, poor Pheidippides possessed a vulnerability, foretelling of his unfortunate demise. The lesson to be learned: don't be too quick to proclaim your victory to others, opening your mouth too wide can trigger every runner's achilles heel; don't let a fly through the lung be the cloud on an otherwise sunny day.
The next section should be read with caution, as many runners will cringe and cower from the graphic descriptions about to be presented. Insecticide begins with impairment of vision: the view ahead, of otherwise sunny space, becomes murky and forboding; like a dirty thumbprint on a contact lense. As you approach, you notice others emerging from the smog, waving yet unseen objects away from their face. When the light hits the smog in just the right way, you notice the definition among its objects; a cloud of insects swarming like a plague of locusts, rising like a geyser into the heavens.
Although the objects are now defined, there is little escape, for it is already too late. Because of an innate sense of the perfect annoyance coordinates, the insects have staked a claim to your destined sidewalk square, and there is nothing you can do about it. You can swerve, sway or duck, but there is no avoiding; momentum's a bitch.
Like the first raindrop splashing on a windshield, the first insect splattering on your forehead primes you for the imminent assault. The body's response is a clear case of evolutionary adaptation, every species has one for their most feared environmental afflictions. Like a camel battening down the hatches during a sandstorm, the human runner purses the lips and squints the eyes in the face of a bugstorm. Depending on the severity of the attack, a scientific property known as swarm-depth, the body can switch into a fight or flight state of survival: holding the breath and running at breakneck speeds in order to escape the cloud.
Although, I loathe these insects, and their affinity for my lungs, I cannot help but respect them for their persistence and courage. Thats right, I said courage. From the research I have conducted, it has become apparent that these flies live for a very short period of time, and spend the majority of their lives reproducing; an ethos of peace and love. To them, my heavy footsteps and unwavering trajectory must be an equally forboding image, as I approach their heavenward spiral of copulation. Now I ask you, if a giant of Godzilla-like proportion was bearing down on your peaceful society, would you be throw your body into the face of the beast? It is as if each fly that I remove from my hair, nostrils and eyelids following a run is like a fallen soldier in an ongoing war to preserve the ways of their society. How can one not be in awe of their skills in combat; the ability to single-handedly take down a giant foe unseen since David felled mighty Goliath with nothing more than a slingshot.
Legends are rife with poisonings and deception, destiny and divine intervention but, in retrospect, Pheidippides was most definitely struck down by this same affliction. An Athenian warrior, unscathed in battle, and able to traverse the distance to Athens, suddenly falls dead. Like another famous Greek, poor Pheidippides possessed a vulnerability, foretelling of his unfortunate demise. The lesson to be learned: don't be too quick to proclaim your victory to others, opening your mouth too wide can trigger every runner's achilles heel; don't let a fly through the lung be the cloud on an otherwise sunny day.
posted by sobe at
2:55 PM
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