In my never-ending quest to remain out of a motorized scooter until they become chic, I went for a jog this Saturday afternoon. Normally I am a bit hesitant to run as I typically prefer working out at home. I have found that 30 minutes of running can aggravate the joints in the lower part of my body for a week. Part of the joys of getting old, I guess.
Anyway, part of the plan was to take in the last hurrah of the fall colors as it was November 2nd, October was in the books, and in a week or so the weather will be cold. So I wanted to enjoy the autumn while it was still here.
My local park did not disappoint. The leaves were golden and everywhere. And so were the children. As there was some local Halloween festival happening in the park, the place was jammed with kids and their parents. They were dressed up and carrying around pumpkins that I knew were to be filled with candy and, I really hoped, not fruit. In any event, the paths were clogged up, so I took to the forest trails.
I’ll admit that this was my first time running a forest trail. As I did my ten-minute jog followed by a one minute walk break I realized something interesting. One, I wasn’t exhausted, and two, my knees and back didn’t hurt. My minute of walking over I embarked upon another ten-minute jog. Halfway through that one I realized that I wasn’t praying for death as I usually was at this point.
My joy was mixed with mild consternation.
Having been an avid workout guy for about five or so years I am no stranger to annoying those around me with unrequested information about my training regimen. I love working out and the change it’s made in my life, and sometimes I want to share it, becoming, I fully understand, that guy.
When someone tells me they’re a runner, I applaud them. When they begin to categorize themselves I begin slowly backing towards a door. I’m a trail runner. I’m an ultramarathoner. I do tough-mudders…what are you doing next weekend?
I don’t want to be that guy again, because I’m evidently easily swayed into that guy transformations. I had a veggie burger last week and feel like Mother Earth. I am that guy. I resisted Harry Potter for seven years and then became a spokesperson once I came around to them. That guy.
I jogged through the trails more and more convinced of its brilliance and more and more sold on my newfound oneness with nature. I negotiated roots and rocks and became addicted to the light thudding of my shoes on dirt and not gravel. And it became clear that I was about to that guy again.
Ten minutes after running home I bespoke the benefits of running trails to Burke whose interest was spotty to say the least. She has met that guy before, when he was some other guy. Even when I displayed my non-sore knees by doing some squats she resisted that guy’s charms.
Ten minutes later I was online looking through forums. Five minutes after that I was looking for a pair of those five finger toe shoes to help me better deal with roots and rocks (as recommended).
I am now that guy.
