If Runners Spoke Like Surfers

I stand waiting my lotta Latte at Coffee Bean and I cannot help but turn the corners of my mouth up at the conversation going on at a nearby table.

“I mean, Dude, sick wave, and then he was like…UP…and then like locked in, and whoa, totally epic.”

Surfers definitely define their lifestyle beyond the board.  There is the look.  Even Johnny Utah can put on a suit and play “FBI”, but please he reeks of Mavericks.  Probably most defining to the amped white water culture who occasionally flirt with men in grey suits (SHARKS!) is the lingo.  The talk.  The words coming out of their mouths.

Runners huddle into subcultural groups too.  We got gear and legs that scream “I’m a runner!”  We move in packs and graze common foods, but we seem to fail an obvious dialect.  Hmmmmmm, I wonder why?  What if a runner spoke like a surfer?

“I am totally not a kook to Nite Moves, but I’m not goin’ all agro either or pullin’ a mullering.  I’m not clucked or lookin’ to get swallowed up in the chowder.  I’m stayin’ locked in the impact zone and when I go noodled I’m just gonna pull a new trick out of my quiver so that I don’t get raked over.  Maybe I’ll get lucky and Ricky has a Chinese wax job draggin’ him down tonight.  So move over Shubie, we’re gonna be steppin’ into liquid and gettin’ worked in 3.1 miles of choka fun.  Totally amped.  Stoked, so you know, bring it!”

Hmmmmmmmmm.  Let’s see, so far in my runner’s original dialect I have “rizzing” & ”sticky.”  I best get to work on translating other fun running happenings into runners speak.  Then I shall ssspppread the word!  Ha!  Or not!

Hang 2 (Rusty would never give you 10).

~ by drea on June 24, 2009.