“No one is normal”

I’m not a gut wrenching, hard core, in your face exercise fanatic.

At my age and given my current health, I exercise slowly. Take my time. Smell the roses.

Exercise should not be torture.

So………….I stop and rest. Often.

And observe. Listen.

The basic groups of work out enthusiasts on the trail are:

Bikers.

Runners.

Walkers.

The runners suffer as they pound the turf and laboriously slam their tortured mass towards some objective.

Sweat pouring out of every pore – muscles screaming for relief – faces reflecting various stages of agony.

Yet they push on as if some diabolic entity is driving them.

And then there are the CHATTY RUNNERS.

These people are amazing. They run in pairs and engage in conversation while their bodies scream for oxygen.

How do they do that?

As they pass by, I catch snippets.

“My brother told me that his wife likes to …………….”

“Did you hear that Martha is having an affair with…………”

“My professor said that God is……………………”

How can they breathe, torture their bodies, and gossip all at once?

Oblivious to me, they move on.

Hey…………..wait. What about Martha?

Bastards.

“It was as if striving had entered his bloodstream” – The Bat by Jo Nesbo