“Run with me”

I had some harmless fun and games today while visiting an Arena of Past Sorrows.

The old school running track, to be exact. The reluctant co-player was an unsuspecting high-school PE teacher herding the Lads in a morning workout.

Meanwhile, this Old Duffer had arrived a few minutes earlier, and was busy chugging around the track doing some interval training. That’s short bursts of faster-paced running, followed by slower recovery, or in my case, gasping for breath.

run with me
Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York Estate of Karl Nierendorf, By purchase

The aim of which is to … run faster. Smoothly. On a marked track with exact distances.

I’m busy flailing down the home strait, and I hear “hey … hey” from the teacher. I pretend to be deaf.

Next lap I’m recovering. “Hey … hey ” again from the portly pedagogue.

“Run with me,” I shout,  at a mild jog. That works.

“Garble splutter … private property … jabber splurtle … police!” he shouts.

I continue jogging away, almost facing backwards now. “I’ll stay out of yer way … run around you,” I shout. No response.

Three or four more laps, and the frisbee which is acting as the ball in a game of ‘touch’ comes my way. “Watch out for the runner,” shouts someone. Ahh, I have the crowd on my side.

As I finish the workout,  without further finagling, I wave amiably back at the teacher, from a safe distance “thanks”.

Everybody’s happy.

 

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