Monday, September 5, 2011

What Good Do You Imagine You're Doing, You Fools?

The problem with taking an early morning constitutional at the moment is that lots of other people are at it, most of them sporty types.

I’d love nothing more than to meander through a woodland glade at crack of dawn, alone with only my serenest thoughts and wisps of elves and unicorns billowing through the bracken — possibly in my cape.

What I can’t be doing with is fitness enthusiasts blasting their salty pheromones into the atmosphere as they stomp past, oblivious to the beauty of their surroundings.

Muscular duos of sinew-pumping, lycra-clad thrustoiditude, I say unto you: fuck off to the bloody gym so I can dream up some decent fiction alongside the ancient oaks, the spirits of woodelande beings and the occasional festooniment of the ridiculous.

Ditto Mrs Shouldn’t Be Walking Let Alone Running, clad in her bombardment of Mad Lizzie tracksuit colours! It’s one thing to jump out of the way for burly lads whose eyes are so fixed on some implausible metabolic horizon that they would willingly tramp into oblivion all other sentient beings, but quite another to have to be prepared to catch, and then resuscitate, some poor deluded old fool on the offchance that she might die, suddenly and violently, like a lawnmower engine fitted to a space rocket fired up to fly to Jupiter in under a fortnight.

Terra firma shuddered this morning, like the San Andreas fault had relocated to downtown Midlandio-sur-Mer, and instead of the sonorous breathing of imaginary dragons, all I heard was the puffing and panting of people who obviously haven’t discovered the fitness benefits of climbing up and down their own stairs a hundred times. That, my imbecile irritati, is the most energetic thing you can do this side of holding your own breath at the very bottom of the Marianas Trench for half an hour — so why don’t you all bloody well go and do that instead of pissing me off with your ludicrous displays of ‘fitness’?


Old Kitty said...

LOL!!! I would also like to add the offence of the gaudy coloured lycra clad cyclists who insist on ruining my leisurely meander along a towpath as they speed along obviously lost from some warped Tour de France rip-off. Amen.

Take care

jjdebenedictis said...

Ah, I have met these sorts of people. In similar situations, too.

There's a hike up a mountain that's locally quite famous. The last time I hiked it, my friend and I put up with a constant stream of not only the spritely hardbodies who bound uphill like they're goats, but also the fellow we dubbed the "hee-haw" man, whose breathing was so laboured it sounded just like the two-note bray of a donkey.

The elves and dragons were definitely not lurking anywhere near those particular evergreen glades.

Whirlochre said...

Old Kitty
Fortunately the cyclists are banned from this particular location by a mad old farmer and his tractor. The moment he catches sight of anyone on a bike, he chases them (though to date he's never managed to catch up with anyone).

I hate to see people hurting themselves unecessarily.