Warning: This post is about spit but don't be off-put.
Looking back on it, it seems incredulous, but at the time it was a way to get out of working the summer. When I was 16, I opted to cycle across the United States. Two months on a bicycle. Two months camping, cooking and carrying my life on two wheels.
On this male dominated trip, I learned one 'skill' which I was awfully proud of: spitting properly. And by properly I mean, the same way that Jack taught Rose how to spit off the Titanic; the in the throat projectile spit. I'm unsure how I came to learn this 'skill.' It could have been due to the long hours on a bike or the natural need to spit while exercising, but it was a necessary art to learn. And what I mean by art is this, one must first cough up the throaty gunk and then take care to notice ones surroundings; the direct of the wind, the surrounding scene and by god the people close by. Then turn your head to the correct angle and with a little strength spit. On a bicycle this takes place in a matter of seconds while moving; quick speeds. And to have all these factors line up perfectly, no misjudgments, is the art of spitting correctly.
This ability of mine became a bit of a boasting point as I grew older. For some people, it's burping the alphabet (gross), for me spitting was something I was rather proud of. So much so, that in the summer of 2010 when I ventured up to the Cloisters with a new male friend of mine, I found myself brag of this skill as we wondered around park surrounding the Cloisters. And this naturally lead to the, 'really, how?' And of course, because this was an absurd thing for me even to mention, I then couldn’t stop laughing to actually spit properly.
Flash forward 5 years to this past Sunday. If it's not snow or rain in New York, its high winds; winds that caused me to wonder if I was really running or possibly flying. But at the start of my run, I was going up against the wind which felt like I was pushing up against an invisible wall. What a way to run 12 miles. Well as will happen with running, the need to spit arises. Now spitting while running is an entirely different process. I mean, you have to think about it the same way, but slightly more strategic as typically more people surround you or pass while running. On Sunday, I couldn't tell you if it was because I was tired or if I was amazed how windy it was, but I didn't think. I took one big throaty hock and I spat...straight ahead into the wind-wall. And I watched in mock horror as my spit came right back into my face. Smack! Gross. But laugh I did. Hysterically; I couldn’t stop. Luckily I was wearing sunglasses which prevented a worse experience. And luckily for me, there was nobody near me to witness this incident. It seemed I was one of the only crazy people attempting a windy run. But replaying it in my head, BAM! Into the wind-wall and right back in my own face. It happened in slow-motion. It was slightly gross. And it was funny. I should have been disgusted, you may be reading this. But if you had witnessed it, you too would have laughed.
Eww did you really think i'd post a photo of that? Nah. Just my bundled up wind-protected self-post run.
