Jogging Mania

What Are You Really Running From?

This town is a runner's rapture: Ribbons of scenery-skirted sidewalks, a surplus of sunshine and the shotgun start of an organized race being fired nearly every time you lace up your ASICS.

Yes, folks here like to huff and lope over endless miles of hills and plains. Glistening provocatively in tiny nylon shorts, they enjoy opening up the throttle on their miraculous, machine-like bodies and blissing out to the meditative rhythms of their feet and heart thumping in tandem, their breath chugging staccato, allegrissimo...

All of which begs the question, I think:

What is wrong with you people?

Long have I applauded and issued wow-good-for-yous when friends — in increasing numbers — tell me they've taken up running and are training for marathons and triathlons. It's good to get healthy, after all. To have hobbies. To set goals.

But no more. It's starting to feel like a plot. A conspiracy to overthrow good sense, to punish ourselves and to make us all have those weird bulbous calfs. And I just won't be a party to that.

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