A Though Run

After a long day, I decided to go for a run to let off steam. Even though it was dark outside, many people were on the streets of the 19th and 20th district celebrating the beginning of the Semesterferien.

Set in a trance-like state by the Pirates of the Caribbean soundtrack, shifting from one foot to the other, I was lost in thought. It was wonderfully peaceful, and I could feel my muscles warming, becoming more fluid.

Suddenly, out of nowhere a drunk came at me from the side with a beer can. Swathed in rags from head to foot, he started waving his hands about frantically and yelling:

"Des ko net gsund sei" (This can’t possibly be healthy)," he sputtered at me in dialect. It dawned on me he must think he was being helpful; still I couldn’t help feeling annoyed.

"If you mean about the alcoholism, you’re right," I parried. I wasn’t proud of myself. You shouldn’t hit back, particularly when the other guy is weaker. Fortunately, he couldn’t even walk straight, so there was no danger of him following me.

About 20 minutes later, coming around a bend, a crowd of teenage Goths appeared from the shadows. As they caught sight of me, they started roaring with laughter. "Sport is Mord " (Sports are death) taunted one boy aggressively, while another one threw an empty Wodka bottle at a passing car.

Now I was shocked. My high-school classmates used to make fun of me for being an athlete, but I had no idea kids’ values had deteriorated quite this far. Turning inward, I finished my run, trying not to think about what this all meant.