Rant

by run lanes

Apologies for my lack of posting in the last few weeks – I have been distracted by family concerns in the mother country, trying to knock out a sociology essay on ‘the sociological imagination’ (don’t ask – you’ll be cross with me for stealing half an hour of your precious life) and because I haven’t been that inspired enough by a topic to jot something down.

One of the way’s I have been distracting myself from my worries (besides Pinot Noir) and is one of my greatest pleasures, is to cycle around the Bay Run. For those of you not in the know, this is a 8km cycle and walking/running track which takes in a section of Sydney Harbour called Iron Cove. I love it because it’s by the water with gorgeous scenery, it’s near my home and best of all, it’s mostly flat!

But I have a problem – Yummy Mummy’s with pushers and overweight rich ladies idly filling their day. As you can see from the picture above, on most of the course a cycle and walking lane are provided. So you would think this division would be pretty easy to understand and follow. Oh no, its much easier to take up both lanes in your tight, all to revealing lycra, and gold jewelery, gabbing on about god knows what and consuming more calories than you lose while you scoff down your large milky flat white with two sugars! Move the fuck over would you. You wouldn’t walk in the middle of the road (although I sometimes wish you would) so why are you standing in the cycle lane? Do you want to get pole-axed by my bike or are you just bloody selfish and inconsiderate. If I use my bell to warn of my approach then I got tsk’s and tuts as I go past – as if I’ve inconvenienced them!

Come on ladies (& burly blokes who insist on running with their tops off – that’s another rant in its self) move over, use the ample space afforded to you and get out of my fecking way!

Aaaah that’s better. Like a satisfying poo – my load is lighter and I feel relieved.

Have a great weekend.

2 comments

  1. Maureen Philbert

    Love, I feel your pain. Being fairly new to the whole cycling thing, I’m amazed by the parents that seemingly encourage their darlings to run into my path, as well as dog owners with said animal on a retractable leash. Said leash is apparently only retractable when it’s time to hang it up. Yes, you sound your bell to herald your approach, and if looks could kill, I’d be a pile of dust; riderless wheels spinning on the ground…

    Like

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