Monday morning, after a nice bowl of Raisin Bran, I decided to go for a run. Given that we were at sea, that meant a choice: run on a treadmill, in a small room overlooking the bridge, or run up on the top deck, where a small track encircles one end of the ship. I chose the outdoor option.
On this particular ship, the running track is short, and therefore requires lots of laps to make up a mile. Five and a half laps, to be precise. My normal 4 mile run would require 22 laps. Luckily, I had the latest Audrey Niffeneger novel on my iPod, so I struck out into the wind.
And came to an immediate halt–an obstacle, in the form of a bikini-clad woman re-arranging her deck chair, threatened to bruise my shins. I picked my way around her, and started running again. A few seconds later, I ran up behind an elderly couple, shuffling along, and nearly ran them over. Then, as I rounded a corner, a little kid barreled toward me, looking over his shoulder at something; I dodged to miss him.
This went on for all 22 laps. It definitely wasn’t my speediest (or most efficient) run ever. But it did the job. When I wasn’t yelling at people to move, or hopping from one foot to the other trying to get around someone, or leaping over the wayward giant chess pieces, I devised a set of cruise ship jogging-track rules. Should you ever find yourself ambling along on the deck of a ship, please keep these guidelines in mind (in the meantime, don’t be surprised if you hear that I was escorted off the ship in Belize for yelling at people–I get a little testy when my run gets interrupted).
1: The walking and jogging track is for walking and jogging. Stopping, standing, chatting, and photo opportunities are not on that list.
2: There is a flow of traffic around any track; stick with that flow. Slower movers stay to the right, faster to the left (or inside). If you must go against the direction of traffic, you are responsible for getting out of the way of oncoming runners. If I have to go around you, don’t be surprised if I fart as I go by. Consider it a gentle reminder.
3: Please do not disrobe in the middle of the track. Just–don’t.
4: If you are going to blow your nose over the railing, be aware of the prevailing wind direction.
5: If I run up behind you and yell, really loudly, “On your left!”, that means that I am approaching on your LEFT SIDE. That’s what left means. It doesn’t mean you should move to your left. It doesn’t mean you should stand stockstill in the middle of the track. It doesn’t mean you should turn around, fling both arms out to your sides, dance a jig, or do a handstand. MOVE OVER.
6: If there are many decks on a ship, all with lovely wide promenades on which you can stroll and amble and gaze out to sea to your heart’s content, please don’t decide to walk three abreast with all your besties on the two-foot wide path that is designated for runners. If you do, don’t look surprised when I shove you out of the way.
7: Please don’t stand in the middle of the track to smoke. I know you aren’t intentionally being ironic, but really–you couldn’t choose a worse place if you tried.
I know this all makes me sound like a curmudgeon; I promise, when I’m not trying to run, I’m really all sunshine and happiness. Just to prove it, here’s one last helpful tip for which I’m sure you’ll thank me next time you’re running (or walking) on a cruise ship:
If you cut across all the inside corners, you’re not going nearly as far as you think you are. Just sayin’.
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
Seriously people know that tracks have rules what makes one a ship any different?
You know, I think maybe some people don’t understand regular track rules. Hmm. I’ll have to write about those at some point–thanks for the idea!