I had done an early morning run on the waterfront again. And this time I decided to jog by the Dome. Not around it, but RIGHT BY it, between it and the CN Tower, where I would have to climb a whole bunch of concrete steps. Even though it was the end of my run, and even though I've only just started jogging, so I'm not exactly EnduroMan, I took those damn stairs, two at a time, with a little shuffle-step on the landings all the way. JUST GAVE'R, y'know?
By the time I got to the top, my legs were super heavy and I was hoping my heart was still made of strong stuff. But I had done it!
So I walked along the John St. footbridge over all the railway tracks, tripping on some serious endorphin-induced euphoria.
About 15-20 young folks were walking toward me along that wide bridge, probably late teens. The girls almost all wearing yoga pants with the legs missing, and tank tops of varying degrees of structural integrity. The boys almost all wore super-brand-new ballcaps.
Two boys were crossing over, moving toward the railing on my side, so I moved toward the middle. Then they split and headed right for me. They were so young you couldn't stick a burr to their faces for lack of stubble. But they knew how to intimidate me. They drew close and one guy said to me 'you got somethin'?
Dammit, these were boys!
I was out of breath, and just kept moving my lead-weight legs. I shook my head, and mouthed the word 'no' with a smirk that I hoped would hide that I was actually afraid.
And that was it. They were on to something else, like a couple of cichlids.
I did those stairs like Rocky Balboa, but I was still afraid. But that's OK, because Rocky was afraid too. Right? Right?
