All the reason to run.

I'm a slow runner. By most accounts I'm a walk/jogger, more emphasis on the jogger part. It takes me nearly 3 miles before I feel warmed up, and since most races you can sign up for are 5K, that means that for .15 miles I'm really in the zone.

The one thing about moving to England is that I can now, with happiness, sign up for lots of different kinds of races all year long. I don't have to do what I did in the states, which is avoiding running altogether (unless really early or really late) during the summer months. But I do have to fight for spots on runs, which I had never had to think about before.

Today I went through my first 7K, which was at Blenheim, and was A-MAZ-ING. It was actually warm today, which was VERY exciting, except for the fact that I didn't wear a matching running kit, which really only bothered me. It's a partial off-road and hill course that goes all over the property, and for someone like myself who hasn't really been in Blenheim's hiking grounds, they could've put me over a cliff and I would've gladly run straight into oblivion. One thing I have to say is hill courses are tough, though that statement is not a really profound one. I've run Austin TX's half marathon, where mile 12 is uphill, so as I hit the off-road inclines I had to chant to myself, "Austin is worse, Austin is worse." That helped me truck on by the stragglers who were beginning to feel the most 'fun' part of a 'fun' run.

The best part about this run is the scenery, which is truly spectacular. I was just awestruck not only with the nice woods and the little lodges I saw tucked away here and there, but the simple fact that people like Queen Elizabeth I went riding around the area HUNDREDS of years ago. Where I started running 6 years ago they were all keyed up that a marathon had been taking place with regularity for 25 years, and that it's history was that it started with people using a station wagon as a turning spot. I'm sure in the year 2107, when they've reached their 125 year and cars are flying, that station wagon will be revered.

I finished near the back of the pack, which was fine. And I did pass the man in the bananna suit, which suited me well, though the guy in the cricket kit really booked it and I never saw him again. Oddly enough there was this woman I was sorted of paced with, who near the end started to weave the course, but then at the finish she cut me off to 'beat' me. Yes, even us slowpokes have a bit of competitive nature in us.

Next week I run Oxford's Town and Gown 10K, which I hear is going to be a kicker. 4,000 of us tearing through the streets. Perhaps they will shove bicyclists in our way and make it interesting. We'll see. We'll see.

The Merry Month of May

May is the time for new beginnings. For marveling at the wonders of nature. Drinking in the long days. Planning holidays and picnics. Jumping off bridges at 6AM, watching tortoises race, and then picnic while people willingly hitting each other with sticks.

Yes, May. Within my first four days of it here in England, I have witnessed a lot.

Take, for instance, May Day itself in Oxford. It's highlight: Waking up stupid early and going down to Magdalen College to hear people greet the morning in song from the topmost tower. Now I say wake up, as I am 31 and therefore old. If you are in college you stay up all night at the pubs who bravely allow themselves to be open. Then, at about 5:30 AM you stumble out, screaming incoherently at your friends. Afterwards you sort of stumble, in a chain, towards the bridge where you want to jump from into the river Cherwell. However, there are police there blocking the bridge, as the water levels can be very low and you could do something like break your back. But, as the grand rap group of the 80s proclaimed, &*(^ the police, right? You're invincible, and barely dressed! And mafakulllllrghhhh! (I think that is what the guy said before they simply arrested him.)

People did eventually jump from the bridge, I've been told. But no injuries. Apparently in the past it's been a light policing, but that usually ends up with 40% of the jumpers needing to go to the hospital. In ye olden times the bridge jump was an actual tradition, but the water level has changed. Personally, I'd be all for rushing into the Cherwell, not jumping. Have you seen how far it is from the bridge to the water? That's freaking high!

The second of May this year was dedicated to the Oxford College tradition of racing tortoises. This is an event held by Corpus Christi, who held a fair, and then let us cram into a corner of their courtyard to watch tortoises from other colleges race to the outside lettuce ring. Now all colleges do not have a tortoise, though several do. Those who don't send people dressed as tortoises, who hold their own competition of seeing who can eat a head of lettuce fast enough. This year Christ Church's got dirty, mounting several other competitors and eventually leading to disqualification. Oddly enough, it was Corpus Christi's tortoise, Oldham, who seemed to pull through and win twice. Tortoise enhancement drugs?

I shot most of my pictures through people's legs. Standing next to me was a man, maybe 20, who was in a full summer suit.

"I say!" he said to a man in front of us. A bearded chap with a bit of a bald spot. "I say good sir, how are you?"
"Fantastic," the man with the beard and the bald spot responded back, "Doing a dramatic reading for the kids in the courtyard in an hour."
"Truly splendid," the summer suit man responded, "Tell me, do you Facebook?"
"Surely I do." he replied.
"I shall search for you then."

Only in Oxford would the politest means of Facebook exchange ever take place at a tortoise race between a 20 year old in a summer suit and a dramatic literature reader.

May the Third was given over to jousting. It's bank holiday here (WOOT!) and Blenheim Palace holds jousting during this weekend past the cricket lawns. Blenheim is still a family home, so sometimes I wonder what it would be like to actually be a person who lived there and could call it their home. I could imagine a sulky teenager all angry because it's jousting on the lawn this weekend and he has to stay rather then jet to Paris or something strange.

They are quite smart during the jousting events, inviting children out to do a knight's parade and play shrubs for the falconer's birds to fly over. I think 80% of the attendants were children, which of course makes me wonder to some level how they still managed to be on rather good behavior. We got there for second round, squeezing in a picnic blanket at the front so we could watch, but keeping a row back so kids could sit in front. It was actually quite fun, as the knights really seemed to enjoy their work, and the competition was pretty real for some of the events. I also salute the fights, and with that highly recommend heading out to a jousting weekend should you have the chance.

And May 4th? Well, it's being spent cataloging all this craziness. But there you have it. I hope that we get a rest break of sorts... who knows... may there is ferret racing at Baliol followed by ninjas on the lawn at Windsor... Hooray for May!