The first day of rain in about a month and almost immediately people started complaining. Traffic was snarled, events were ruined or outings were cancelled. It was just another normal August day in Langley — too hot, too cold, too wet or too dry.
As I was driving downtown, I passed at least three joggers out for their morning run. These were the dedicated year round joggers in the spandex shorts, headbands and headphones. One was even texting as she jogged, which truly takes talent.
I was never a good jogger. My knees ached and I usually twisted an ankle or got cramps in my calves. I believe that man should only run if he has a good reason, like catching a touchdown, rounding third for home or outrunning his hunting buddy as they are being chased by a bear.
Any garage sale will have a treadmill or some sort of rarely-used exercise equipment. A friend was given a treadmill that conveniently folded flat to fit under bed. She said it was a great feature because she put it under there and hasn’t seen it since. We only exercise until it hurts or until we feel some positive results, and then we stop. No need to burn ourselves out.
Except for those few daily, dedicated runners who get into the trance and pound the sidewalk in search of the ultimate runner’s high.
We never did much jogging when we were kids because there was little pavement and pretty deep ditches. It was not easy trying to keep that even cadence running on gravel, leaping potholes and being honked at by cars and trucks six inches from the shoulder.
The beach is the best place to watch joggers. They come in all shapes and sizes, colourful and comical. There are the experts and the novices, the ones out for exercise or fun and the ones running from something that is still there in front of them when they stop, exhausted.
Life is too short to run. Take your time, enjoy the sun on your face and the rain on your neck and take time to look around. Otherwise, it all goes by too fast. At least that’s what McGregor says.
Joggers
Bright yellow cap, tiny CD headphones
Body not designed for spandex shorts;
Summer shades will make them
Oblivious to others,
Weaving in and out the strollers
They come in different shapes and sorts.
Her silver track suit, attracting much attention,
Matching headband holds her golden hair.
She’s tightening those calves and buns
That way she won’t lose him
And the way she has things bouncing
She knows you’re gonna stare.
The sweaty jock streaks by, he wears no shirt
Every kid and dog gets in his way;
He wears old blue jean cut offs,
No socks inside expensive shoes,
He hasn’t had a job in years
He’s out here running every day.
As I watch them, I puzzle at their purpose;
Is it just another goal they have to reach?
They don’t seem to realize
You’re running all your life,
Some days it’s more important
To just sit here on the beach.