The nob on the hill

Sitting on a bean bag under ground, flooded by neon lights. My back to the wall of a very wide corridor. A very low ceiling. Loud music is playing in the background. Big, American, block-buster music. The kind which pumps the rhythm into big alien-robot Hollywood battle-scenes. More specifically it is the sound track of Iron-Man 2.

Outside, the sun is shining. The air is fresh and clear. And quiet. At least as quiet as it gets in a major American city. San Francisco, in all its glory is out there, and I am deep in the bowels of non-descript conference centre. Only a couple of meetings to go before I can get out and enjoy myself a bit.

Ran along the Embracadero this morning. Planned my route on Google maps to make sure I don't short change you all by running less than 10km. Google maps, however, is flat. Did not notice the way back takes me up Nob Hill. Funny name for a hill, until you have to run it. Did not find it amusing at all. A rather accurate description I thought. It is fine when you are Steve McQueen in a Mustang. Less so when you are a middle-aged runner with bad knees. Still, for all of you thinking to ask for your donations back, I did not fail you.

PS 770km down. 230km to go.