SWARTHOS

Ahh, morning routines. Nothing quite like it, as its a chance to stretch, hit the pavement, and get into the day before the chaos begins anew. This morning, myself and mutt Urt decided to take our daily jaunt around the local park, our stomping grounds. Starting with a few sprints up and down the hillside between the trees and giant mud puddles Urt loves to play in, it gave us a chance to get the heartrate up and get a bit of the natural air in our lungs.

Being in such close contact with nature is a blessing and a curse. Once you get out into the park — and the wild — you never quite know what awaits you — perhaps a nice chat with some other joggers, or even some surprise guests.

This morning, we were greeted with the same familiar face, an elderly woman who I suspect has had suffered some sort of stroke a few years back. She always visits this park like clockwork, a peaceful solace of time tucked away outside of the city. Beyond the park, Urt and I had a sprint through one of the adjacent neighborhoods — and past one particular house I deemed the Conspiracy Theorist Pad.

The house is normal enough but for a car parked in front decked out with media-boxed prophecies caravanning around the sides, a prophet of the dawn warning us of our impending fate. Adorned with phrases like ‘Nukes Coming’ and ‘Virus is 5G 60Ghz,’ I find the whole thing quite fascinating. Honestly, it’s hard to capture with words. Check out the photos below, courtesy of me and Urt’s visit — thx Urt.

In any case, our daily jog/walk is an integral part of my routine, and I’m thankful for Urt to join me on our adventures. Here’s to the morning jogs. Onwards.