can "run," though

one of Ana's friends was here overnight, further raising the already dangerously high girl count in the flat. all in all, the squeal level is reaching a record "shrill" even as i can assure you that i am not contributing to it in the least.

a new month holds the possibilities for new evasions of the bus kontrola, but instead i decided to go and purchase a new insert for my laminated pass. actually, since i dutifully got the last one, i haven't seen any prowling around my vicinity at all. then again, i seem to be *only* riding buses and tramvaji that are so crowded that no self-respecting kontrola would attempt to make a pass through, even were he slight as a rail. furthermore, it is a publicly acknowledged fact that anyone subjecting him/herself to transportation conditions including any two of the following ought to get away with their price-of-a-ticket theft: aforementioned human and personal item (including sacks of red and pale yellow peppers) density, obnoxious riding of clutches, jerky downshifting and other futile means whereby to avoid stopping and/or starting again after a stop, grinding to a halt and never recovering, general traffic antics, broken [anything] on tracks and throughways, and, well, the daily accompaniments of travel here. today, in order to avoid the ludicrous scenario of getting held up for questioning en route to being a good citizen, and because i was keen on running and doing errands at the same time i opted to head to Zemun for the pass. "Пошта" has always meant "Pošta" to me—but it seems that, in the literature detailing the process whereby one is to adopt and provide with proper nutrients the monthly pass, including where to purchase replacement cards, "Zemun-pošta" merely means that the unmarked stand is *somewhere* in the general vicinity of the post office. the "ГСП/GSP" logo is quite brilliant (i say in the spirit of bilingual jokes which is, after all, the only spirit in which one should operate), so i cannot figure out why it's not displayed even more prominently. after making several passes up and down the main street in Zemun, i finally found the selling stand and obtained my desired object, with all of 3 minutes to spare (opening hours are a subjective matter, particularly on saturdays).

raining in tiny, suspended drops, it was quite a good day for running—and fishing, i thought, although i didn't see many people out on the rivers. i think that not many people run here, so i get quite a few odd looks. granted, this confused glances could be the result of any number of things which aren't in the least related to the uncommonness of the activity in Beograd. it's true, though, that along the river, where there's a minimal nod towards a path, i encounter more of my fellows (if "Beograd Boys," with their little shorts, be called my fellows), as well as a man who, on more days than not, is out amidst the barges permanently stationed along the shore as cafes, doing intricate calisthenics in the early mist. down by the river, there's always a representative sample (because these are all over the city) of bedraggled dogs who seem to lack the energy to respond to any external stimuli. they sleep all over, on medians of fairly busy roads and curled up with rain pounding upon them. the strange thing is that malnourishment, which would account for such lethargy, doesn't seem to be the main problem; i cannot, however, figure out what is—and am simply glad that these dogs are neither interested nor able to chase me, because i am only very fast when it involves the activities mentioned earlier.

at one end of the river path, i found what seems to be the beginning of the Beograd Ultramaraton, although in all my searching i cannot seem to locate any of its most basic information, such as date or length. nor can i find out anything about the elusive "Race Through History" that is supposedly on 11 October, here. with a name like that, i would probably run it even if it were, as Jacki Joyner Kerse said, "42 km too long." sadly, it seems that, as is true of the discipline/field in general and the majority of whose who professionally steep themselves in it, the Race Therethrough may also be limited to men. last weekend, i was talking with Ivan about running, since he'd gone to college in California on a track scholarship. he wasn't sure when the Novi Sad marathon was, but it looks like it is this next weekend. while i don't think i'll be doing that one (although i'd prefer to run in the fall, for training purposes), maybe, though, i will pick up speed in time for the Beograd marathon in april—subject, though it is, of such wonderful description. the race existed way back in 1910, but then fell by the wayside thereafter. hmmm, now i wonder why *that* would be....in 1988, some "sports enthusiasts" (those termed such are native to Central Europe, clad though they are, most likely, in little shorts), the Serbian army (also donning said shorts?) and national police (i hardly think so)—all motivated, no doubt, by a fair bit of national inferior/superiority complex—revived the race. 1988 was just in time for all commentary on the Beograd marathon to begin with the words "the only good thing to come out of Srbija..." and little has changed since then. however, the event has expanded to include several other lengths of race:
_______________________________________________________
"the Children's Marathon, the race for the youngest,

the Race of Pleasure [i can hear my father, among others, snickering now], the most mass-attended race [with a Nietzschean title like that, is this in any way surprising?],

the Semi-marathon, arranged under all applicable world standards [see, what did i tell you?], intended for highly eager runners [you must beware these type, especially as they are liable to wear little shorts],

the Marathon, the main race of the event, intended for the most ready runners [about this one, no quips and jokes may be made]"
_______________________________________________________
in thinking about it, i wonder how much of a "cultural thing" is running. or, to make a larger claim: which types and forms of being active take hold and become popular and relied upon in a place. sports are always discussed in the extremely universal (universalising) terms of the Olympics. certainly, there is something fundamental and nonregional about the human body, moving. but, on the other hand, it seems as though this has been set up as an ideal—which then must be matched by reality. would, say, running exist in, say, Srbija were it not for the pressure (from, say, The West) to have a city marathon or risk being a sub-par major metropolis? when it comes down to it, though, it seems that the "organised" aspect of organised sports is that which is semi-universal. simply *doing* something sticks out in most cultures. but organising and hosting sport events really says nothing about *what* the common folk do to stretch their limbs. this is the point in which i'm interested and about which i really have no authority to say anything.

this past week, i decided to wear my new shoes, which i brought with me, but had been reserving for some unspecified special foot occasion. now that i am about a millimeter from wearing through the right toe (only the right—a testament to my gimpy stride) of my trustable, oft-washed but yet again engrimed from the ubiquitous grit of Beograd, and given that my track record in these saving matters could result in me packing an unused pair of shoes for my return trip, i opted for carping the diem, living like i indeed believe that "life's too short to [wear crappy shoes]," and have boundless resources, etcetera. i must say, though, decent footwear makes a significant difference on the overall experience of running. that said, the rapidity with which i go through shoes is completely ridiculous.