Upgraded running? Funny.

 

I'm not into running.

When I was younger, I was on the cross-country and track teams and would sprint and run long distance.  I didn't really choose those activities- I was on the track team more by default, because most girls at my school thought exercise was for butch chicks and it would interfere with their rigorous makeup application routine.  I was on the cross-country team because my father thought it would be good for me.

It probably was good for me, in some way, but I really wasn't a big fan of running then and I really loathe it now.  I enjoy running with a purpose- like in soccer, where I have to run if I don't want to look like an asshole walking around trying to get the ball.  I would be totally on board with running if I was being chased or had to escape some kind of imminent danger.  These are situations that warrant running.

It is a good idea to run when dinosaurs are chasing you.

But just running for the sake of running?  I dunno.  I have heard of this so-called "runner's high" that people in spandex get after booking it around the block a few times.  I have yet to experience such a thing.  It might have something to do with my severe deficit in actual running.  It might also have to do with there being a type of person who IS a runner, and then everyone else, who looks at those jerks running around and wonders- if they're in such a rush, why not take a bike?  Or, better, a CAR???

Bob and I live near a Running Room, the official church of those people who get high off running.  This is their mecca.  They gather there, spend a fortune on running gear and hustle around in large, holier-than-thou groups who look down their noses at us mere mortals who walk or drive to get where we need to go.  Actually, these runners aren't even going anywhere.  They're coming right back to the start.

There are a lot of bogus runners who join that club, I think.  The one we live near has a McDonald's, a bakery, a chocolate shop, an ice cream shop and two coffee places in the same complex, and on running days all these businesses are overrun with doofuses (doofii?) in silly tight-fitting hats, reflective jackets and utility belts designed only to hold multiple tiny water bottles.  It's hard to tell if they are finished their run or having a pre-run latte, but they are all OVER the place, sometimes choking out even the hordes of old people who wander over from the plethora of care homes across the street.  Running days are a drag in the complex.

Bob and I once tried to commit to an exercise program that was based around running.  We both wanted to get in shape and we wrote out all these goals and this plan where we would be running pretty much every day.  We went out on the first day and, fueled by what I can only assume was either our pure love for each other or complete insanity, ran about 5 km and pretended to like it.  We both said prerequisite things like "Wow I'm so pumped, what a great workout" and agreed that we were on the path to greatness.

...deep down inside, we both were thinking "Eff this!  I hate running!  We look like turds!  Running around for no reason.  Nothing's chasing us!!!  And now my stupid legs hurt and my skin feels like someone slapped it!  Bah!!!"

...but the next day, we went out, ran our circuit again, and breathlessly smiled at each other at the end.  Until I broke the silence...

"Bob.  I'm really sorry.  I hate running.  I'll still do it if you want, but I really, really hate it and I wish I was dead."

To which Bob replied:

"OH THANK GOD IT WAS TERRIBLE I ALSO WISH I WAS DEAD!!!"

...thus ended our ridiculous foray into the world of running.  Now, we both get exercise and spend some time together on our coed soccer team, where lots of people are relying on us to run around and not be stupid jerks who just stand there.  Social pressure, plus the addition of an actual goal, makes running less of a horrible waste of our time and more of a slightly aggravating aspect of something we enjoy.

We got to talking the other day, though, about running clubs.  Bob had made a joke at work about how all those people from the Running Room look like a team, that they're supposed to be running because they're all decked out in hundreds of dollars worth of running crap, but if you saw a group of people in plainclothes running around you would think you'd have to call the cops.  Why would a bunch of people in regular clothes be running?  Almost definitely because they are escaping from the scene of a crime.

One thing led to another, and I now propose to you:

Heather's Hobo Running Squad

Now don't worry.  Membership is not exclusive to hobos.  Hobos are certainly welcome, along with anyone else who wishes to join, except maybe those sorts of people who join the Running Room.

For a nominal fee, we will provide you with all the running gear you need and will schedule places and times for us to get together and run.  Each person's membership kit will include:

1. A uniform consisting of clothing that looks like this:

2. Free weights to be carried in your hands while running, to maximize your burn (or whatever), that look like this:

3. A map of starting places and rest stops around town, mostly situated downtown near banks.

4. A laminated lifetime membership card.

5. A pack lunch, to be carried in a bandana (translation in Kimspeak: hobo napkin) on the end of a long stick.

6. A phrasebook to use in situations that almost certainly will arise.  Here are some sample excerpts from the book:   

"I'm running with my Hobo Running Squad.  Here is my laminated lifetime membership card."

"Yes, we are all together."

"Yes, this is our standard running uniform.  It lets people know we are organized."

"These are my free weights.  They help me maximize my burn."

"We carry our lunches like this so they don't get in the way of our form."

"I get high on running, not on drugs."

"Officer, you are welcome to search my free weights, but I must insist you return them as I need them to maximize my burn."

I'm pretty sure you want to join.  I'm pretty sure this is something that we should actually do. It's fitness...AND fun!!!

Moral of this story: I'm getting a junior chicken, and I don't care if I have to push all you runners out of the way to get it.