After nearly 15 minutes of watching his satellite-connected watch climb to one bar of charge, Toronto resident Guy Mitchell is just about ready to set out on his daily sojourn with mankind’s ancient ancestors, when he notices the weather has changed.
“Shit, it’s raining. Better let that pass through. Can’t be chafing my nipples again right before the weekend,” Toronto resident Guy Mitchell says to his running coach as he steps out of his climate controlled residence, about to reconnect with a deeper, more primitive, perhaps even tribal, man: the kind that unashamedly runs in lycra.
Through incredible innovations from shoe companies that now allow you to take one step and glide for 10-20 kilometres while tweeting how well your runner’s high is going with your matcha latte, there is effectively nothing holding anyone back from replicating the experience of our ancient forebears as they hunted, and gathered, and ran vast distances wishing they had a car.
And now, through an ingenious system that mixes anthropology with competitive sports, many of the ancient’s original run-times are now available to be beaten on Strava.
“Look at that shit,” Mr. Mitchell says, thumbing through the popular fitness app while waiting for the puddles to drain, “Some guy called He-Who-Lived-Here-First seems to have taken two hours to run from Ashbridge’s Bay to the Harbourfront. I mean sure, it looks like he stopped to skin a rabbit here, and here – praising the Great Spirit each time in an intimate display of give-and-take that makes our modern consumer society look like mutant pigs at a corn-eating contest – and he wouldn’t have had a road per se. But still. Come on ‘ancient’ man, get in the game. Get in the game. Get in the…” he continues repeating this phrase as his pre-run double espresso hits his system, his increased heart rate causing dark fluorescent-yellow rings of sweat appear on his light fluorescent-yellow body leotard.
The puddles have mostly drained off now. Guy thumbs through his play list, presses engage on one entitled ‘Nothing But Mammals,” leaps off his front step, and fractures his right ankle. As he writhes on the ground, gripping his demolished joint, the first chorus of the popular song comes on full volume: “You and me baby ain’t nothin’ but mammals, So let’s do it like they do on the Discovery Channel.”
“Do it again now.”
Photo: Richard Saker for The Observer