Boston is a cruel city. Its streets aren't on a grid, its residents are short-tempered, and its weather is schizophrenic. Bike lanes are considered to be ample parking space by too many motorists; Canadian Geese use our running trails as dumping grounds.
Staying fit in this berg takes some resolve and a monk's patience, and still a little venting might be required now and then. So to the fleet-footed, lead-bellied, heart-broken, or just uninspired masses of the Hub, we present to you the grumblings of a few who've rumbled with the rabble, drank Rum in Kendall, and who've signed up for the James Joyce Ramble.
We hope you enjoy.
No comments:
Post a Comment