• Sunday, January 12, 2014
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Mud and dirt can be consumed accidentally during sports
and other outdoor activities. 
This has led to dysphemisms
 for poor-tasting food such as "tastes like dirt",
 based on the experience of getting mud, dirt, etc. in one's teeth.


"As I look ahead, I am filled with foreboding; like the Roman, I seem to see the River Tiber foaming with much mud.'"

It's bloody stupid to consider mud as some sort of life form. It's just that there is a surplus of the stuff at the moment and I can't help myself. We've had so much rain over Britain in the last six weeks that I'm starting to suffer some sort of Noah complex. In short, I'm getting twitchy. I dream of boat building.
I'm haunted by mud. I am essentially a trail runner and I don't so much feel stalked by mud than battered by it. It's not insidious, it's downright invasive.
To run in it is to be assaulted, fingered by cold tentacles, whipsplashed. You must impose yourself or it will reduce you to a lumpen, graceless object of derision. It is a life form that a trail runner needs to subjugate and tame, a slippery, cunning and beastly force and if you let your concentration wander it will bite you on the arse. You must dominate it and assert yourself. Make the bastard stuff submit. Let your feet be true.

Is it to much of a stretch to talk about having a mental and physical tussle with an inanimate life form?  God after all breathed life into the soil of the earth. If He could do it back in the day then why not now? Or did it ever go away? Perhaps this stuff is the sum of the Frankenstein off casts of Adam, lying in wait all this time. Seeking vindication. I think this thought has merit, it keeps us honest after all and is that not part of God's DNA?

Out damn'd spot! out, I say!—One; two: why, then'tis time to do't.—Hell is murky.—Fie, my lord, fie, a soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our pow'r to accompt?—Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much mud on him? 

Apologies to the purists for mangling Virgil and Shakespeare. Forgive me. I am seeking help I promise.

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