Why jog

Today I took the dogs for a walk along the towpath on the Leeds Liverpool canal. There was a bit of weak sunshine and what my mother would have described as a drying breeze. In the distance were two ladies in their late 30's or early 40's who were jogging along the towpath.

They had all the gear, supportive bits for the parts that jiggle and skin tight black Lycra for the bits that wobble. They were obviously feeling hot and sweaty from all their exertions. Now I notice these days that all the joggers and runners seem to carry an Isotonic drink as part of the regalia. These two ladies were no exceptions as each was clutching a bottle.

I find it completely incomprehensible how what was once just a “Fun Run” round the block just to keep a level of fitness is now an almighty great fitness freak show. Complete with the shoes the sweat bandanna and the shortage of breath.

As they passed by, rather than just say hello. I said, “I thought you were supposed to be enjoying your jog” I got a very terse reply which confirmed that the ladies that I thought were ladies, were not ladies after all. Stately as a pair of towing ponies, with rumps and fetlocks to match they disappeared off into the distance and slowly faded from view. My mother had a saying that best described the pair. There are cart horses and there are race horses and not all are thoroughbreds.

The ladies are not alone in wearing spray on material. The days of the 118 running vest have now become the days of the dayglo hand warmers, the walkman and the small shoulder pack. Each step and heart rate carefully recorded on their digital body monitors

The rain started again, I stood under a tree to shelter from the worst of it. The two runners returned. Now they were red where previously they were white. They were wet where previously they were dry and the bandanna had long given up the task of holding their saturated hair in place. As they passed, I was minded of all the enjoyment the couple of care worn Hippo were having.

Actually, I don't exercise at all. I figure if we were meant to touch our toes, we would have them attached further up on our body. Tortoise live to the age of three hundred years and more, I have yet to see one jogging.

Later.....