『The Running Jackal』のカバーアート

The Running Jackal

The Running Jackal

著者： Jackal
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 This channel is voice recordings of my life here in Victoria.
Usually running trails, but not always.
This usually is edited down from longer sessions, to under an hour.
I hope you enjoy the show.Copyright Jackal エクササイズ・フィットネス フィットネス・食生活・栄養 衛生・健康的な生活
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  • Lochside Freedom Ride

    Lochside Freedom Ride
    2025/07/16
    This morning, I had planned to run with Derick, but the rising heat had him thinking twice. I was still at the bus stop when he backed out, so I never got on. Instead, I swung onto my little bike and rolled off without a route, just a sense of possibility. I called it my “Freedom Ride”—a spontaneous escape from routine. It felt like the day itself had nudged me to take a break from the schedule and simply move.
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    30 分
  • Monkey Tree Ride

    Monkey Tree Ride
    2025/07/12
    Carlos here—The Running Jackal—doing something a little different today. I'm not on foot. I'm on my little bike. After just missing the light at Mackenzie Avenue, I paused my recording. Then off I went—rolling past the noisy bustle, aiming toward Hamilton Hops & Grapes to pick up some brewing supplies. You see, Save-On-Foods was out of DME (that’s Dry Malt Extract for the uninitiated). And yes, I'm still brewing—weekly batches now—finely tuned to the right bottle count and desired strength. As I rolled down Quadra Street, “Nothing But the Blues” played from my phone tucked in my pocket, while my trusty Sony voice recorder nestled deep in the pouch. I hoped the wind wouldn't muffle too much. The pouch’s opening is quite large, but the recorder's weight helps—it settles deep. Hopefully no wind tunnel effects today. I cruised over the Swan Lake Trestle Bridge, past the spot where the Lochside and Galloping Goose trails converge. This stretch is familiar—I often see my birding friend here in the mornings. They say this spot is known as the Saanich Spur, where old rail lines once split toward Sydney and Courtenay. Now, it’s a trail for thinkers, runners, and riders like me. As I zipped past cyclists (117 and counting), I chuckled to myself. Some say you can ride 30km/h. Me? I’m happy with 15. It’s not just about the bike—though mine is humble—it’s also about youth, strength, and that extra bit of juice I don't always have these days. Still, I got up a good head of speed—probably hit 35km/h—coming down the hill near Douglas Street on the Switch Bridge. Back in the day, that was a railway crossing. Now, it’s a pedestrian bridge that gives you a nice acoustic thrill when you shoot through the tunnel. I may have done it twice... just for the sound. At home, life at the lair ticks along. I’ve made a deal with my neighbor, John, for some firewood. His dead Garry Oak needs to come down, but there's a delay—we’re waiting on the city permit. Funny that you don’t need a permit to prune a tree, but you do to take it down, even if it’s clearly dead. Bureaucracy at its finest. John's letting me take the larger prunings—the stuff too big for the shredder. Once the permit's in, and the tree crew returns, I’ll roll over my wheelbarrow and haul those logs home. Two trips, maybe. Enough for the winter, I reckon. They won’t split the rounds, but I’ve asked for a burnable length. We’ll see. Anyway, I arrived at Hamilton’s a little early. No lights on yet. It's 9:22 and they don’t open till 10. Sometimes the woman who helps with the business gets in early and opens the doors once the alarm is off and the lights are on. Fingers crossed. I brought my lock just in case. So, I did what I always seem to do lately—wait for the shop to open. Eight kilometers from my fridge, parked out back, I went for a little scenic walk. And just like that, my day came full circle—camera in hand, trail beneath my feet, back where I started this story: waiting, walking, and wondering. No Sunday show this week, but expect a fresh running podcast on Wednesday. Until then, this has been The Running Jackal, spinning down the trails and through life—on bike, on foot, and always on the move. Bye-bye everyone.
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    14 分
  • One round of chips

    One round of chips
    2025/07/09
    As I swing back under the sweeping branches of the catalpa tree, I begin recording today’s short trailer. This one stands on its own—not part of the regular audio feed, but a self-contained glimpse into the moment. With my trusty voice recorder in hand, I flip the camera around and start a gentle descent. The trail opens up ahead—8:05 pace, nice and easy in the drizzle. The air is fresh, the lens catching a few raindrops, and everything feels grounded in that zone two rhythm. A walk break brings me toward what once were the gates of Mr. McCrae’s farm, back in the 1840s and '50s—when this land was part of Fort Victoria, a Hudson’s Bay Company camp. History whispers through the trees. I pass the oddly named Vanilla Ice Cream House, its bright walls out of place in the grey mist. Then up ahead, the south end of Cedar Hill Golf Course opens wide, fairway gleaming under low cloud. Almost done now—just a short descent toward the rec center. This little trailer wraps here. Thanks for joining me.
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    23 分

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