The other day, I was running around the playground with my daughter, and the playground was... floored? grounded? underbellied?... in that recycled rubber stuff. It was super springy and soft and it felt like running on a great big slice of Heaven Pie. Because we all run on pie, right?
So I thought to myself* "I would pay good money to be able to run on this surface when I go running."
And then I thought, "Someone should totally make a semi-enclosed running track of this stuff and it would be great, especially for people like me with bad knees."
And then I thought, "Hey, Amanda, you're someone."
And then I thought, "Life goal--check." Because my old life goal was to popularize pub quizzes in Southwestern Ontario, but then I found out that lots of places already do them, and that's awesome, but why didn't anybody tell me that?
So, I've made it my life goal to one day be the proud owner and operator of a recycled rubber running trail. Or maybe head of the committee that operates the municipally-owned recycled rubber running trail. Let's not get too lofty with our ambitions. Even if we use the royal plural.
It would of course be expensive to maintain, not to mention to build. If I fund it, I intend to use the fortune I make off of my goldfish breeding pyramid scheme (by the way, do you want to start your own goldfish farm?). At first, I thought that in order to offset the ongoing costs, access would have to be somehow restricted and some sort of fee charged for use of the trail. But that seemed difficult and stupid.
So use of the trail will be completely open--to runners, walkers, and waddling geese alike--and I would go all Radiohead and make it by donation. Not at the gate because I can't be standing there all day accepting your lint and buttons and change. Online. If you like using the trail and you want to keep it there, go online and make a donation.
I think it's hard to imagine how incredibly awesome running on this stuff was, so go to your nearest elementary school and try it out. Go in the evening, though, because you don't want to be the creepy guy running around the playground. And then get back to me.
Good idea? Bad idea?
*I said it out loud. It's not that I wasn't talking to myself, but at times I have to speak up to be heard over the voices in my head.