Rubbish Runners

I do quite a bit of distance walking. As someone whose age can best be described as “having outlived 6 Blue Peter Tortoises”, it’s okay. I’m comfortable with the physical limitations that age brings. I’ve nothing to prove to anyone.
But during such walks, I seem to encounter 3 types of runners…
Firstly, those who you can hear pounding behind you from a distance, can pass you easily and speed off way ahead of you. In short, the serious runner and fair play to them. They have my utmost admiration and respect.
Secondly, the people with a jumper tied around their waist who clearly can’t run but know they can’t run. They will embarrassingly try to run or wobble or waddle past you, smiling, doing their best, even if they’ll have to stop and rest at the next bench for 10 minutes. But they know their limitations and they’re “having a go” which is good. I love that in people.
But the worst are in the third category…
People wearing an ill-fitting, unflattering Lycra outfit who you can hear puffing and blowing behind you like Thomas The Bloomin’ Tank Engine (to give him his full name) and their only personal goal in life is to overtake you before you reach the next lamp-post.
So, they’ll speed up, overtake you and then spend the next 10 minutes just 5 yards ahead of you, and now going at the same slow speed so the distance between you stays the same as it would if they were just walking and you could embarrassingly overtake them back with little effort.
They delude themselves they’re running when, in reality, they’re barely shuffling. They’re certainly not using that much extra energy to warrant carrying an energy drink and the fact they throw their empty Lucozade Sport bottle onto the pavement because they ironically haven’t the energy to carry it to the nearest street bin should tell them to give it all up.
I wish they’d just stop posing and jog on.


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