I am a purist when it comes to food. A huge purist.

And yesterday I ended up at Miller’s Pizza on Upper Baggot Street, Ballsbridge, Dublin, Ireland, and I enjoyed a Thai Prawn Green Curry Pizza, while colleagues of mine were devouring Mexican Salsa on Pizza Dough and similarly “perverse-sounding” foods. Unfortunately, their menu behind the above link is out of date (someone should let them know…), but that should not stop anyone with an appreciation for eclectic food and an adventurous vein from stopping to eat at this place the next time you’re in Dublin.

NP: Devin Townsend: Ziltoid the Omniscient

I really enjoy living so close by the airport, especially given the amount I have to travel. It’s usually sufficient for me to leave my flat 60 minutes prior to departure time of any flight, and that has saved me from a bit of stress in the past.

Today, on this incredibly fine Sunday, Zurich under a bright blue sky and the air at a comfortable 10-12°C, I decided to take a run down my current favourite route: from Auzelg down (up?) the Glatt river towards the airport.

It’s about a half hour run for the 5km between my flat and the fence separating bystanders from the runways. Usually I then turn around, possibly via a detour, to return home after 10-15km.

Today I felt incredibly energetic (much of it was related to Amorphis, who were rocking my headphones), so I kept going, and before I knew it, I had decided I was going to run once around the airport.

It turns out that the perimeter is larger in distance than getting there and back on foot. According to the Gmaps Pedometer, where I plotted my route, it’s about 15km around the airport, and it was 26km full “door to door.”

But by then, my mind was set, and my enthusiasm completely overshadowed navigating through parking lots and roads and towns and over at least 5km of asphalt, which I hate. I ended up getting myself lost a bit due to lack of a watch and stupidly assuming that since I can’t tell what time it is, the sun must be standing still. Eventually, though, I found someone to ask for directions and found my way back to the Glatt river.

The rest of the way, knowing exactly what lay ahead and feeling my muscles scream and protesting, I managed to enter a state of trance in which my feet would not touch the ground anymore, in which I’d just fly over the path while feeling an incredible, overwhelming urge to go even faster. My mind ignored my body and kept going. What a great feeling!

I got back to my flat exactly 3 hours after I embarked on the “little jog” feeling exhausted as I haven’t felt in many years, but also very proud: this was the first time for me to break the 20km of continous running (I did not stop for a minute once).

And now, even after a long and very hot bath and half an hour of stretching, I get to feel the consequences of going over the limit. Don’t ask me to move for the rest of this day.

NP: Amorphis / Am Universum

When I found out last night that I did in fact have to play today’s volleyball tournament in the startup lineup of our first team, I started to build up some fear. It was exactly this tournament two years ago at which I tore all ligaments of my right foot, and even though that itself is/was quite painful, a similar accident this year would spoil my impending adventures.

It turns out my ligaments are still intact after a tiresome day of volleyball, and after six games (or was it eight?), we came in second place (“second place is first loser…”).

About two minutes into the first game, however, I lost balance in the air, landed hard on my rear, warped my shoulder muscles a bit, and the impetus of rolling backwards caused my head to collide with the floor rather ruggedly. I saw a bright flash and some stars and for about 3 seconds everything was quiet. Miraculously, I could come back into the game just five minutes later. Winston Churchill said “sport is murder” and he’s right (thanks stockholm for this info).

And now I am at home again, exhausted, and I cannot sit down really; the impact between my rear end and the floor left a wonderful bruise, the area of about 4 palms, on my butt. I’d show a picture, but then I can’t imagine anyone wanting to see my bruised behind. And this I-can’t-sit situation leaves me a little angry, for tonight I really wanted to see a cool Hungarian film about tally clerks in subways, but no cushioning in this world would likely make that a comfortable experience.