Friday, 14 May 2010


I am an exercise freaker...I try to stay away from it as much as possible. It is much easier in the winter months when you can give excuse of the weather and become a complete couch potato. The fingers on my right hand have got so much exercise flipping the television channels, that I could actually run a marathon if ever there was a finger marathon.

Since last month the excuse of the weather being too cold started sounding lame and I had to pick up my butt and start going for a brisk walk in evening. I have been pretty regular and I walk along the Lancaster Canal. The first few days were an actual pain, I could feel my unused muscles protesting vehemently at this uncalled torture. Slowly I fell in the rhythm and now I can actually hear the the songs on my cellphone rather than my brain enticing me with intelligent suggestions of going and parking my butt in the depression in the couch.

As everyday, yesterday evening I started my walk. After walking for about fifteen minutes I decided to take the great risk of jogging. I had seen many people jogging everyday and thought 'Well this can't be hard, if that oldish chap can do it so can I, after all it is just putting one foot in front of another'.

I started off at a slow trot and managed to cover some distance before my lungs signalled me to stop and I had no say in the matter. I kept walking and resumed my jogging on my return lap... I was feeling quite excited and could hear the calories dropping away. The world was looking beautiful and I must have managed to cover nearly 1/2 a mile..ok ok 1/3rd of a mile...sheesh you guys, how much difference can one digit make?

I was in the zone, feeling pretty good about myself, even had a few drops of sweat on my brow when a figure in black dashed past me. I saw the backside of a lithe woman dressed in black Lycra shorts jogging with complete ease and taking smooth confident strides. Her shapely behind made my eyes pop out (guys, here is a secret for you, even we check out women's back sides) and I suddenly felt deflated, I stopped jogging and sheepishly resumed walking. Within a matter of few minutes the woman was a speck on the horizon and all I could say was, 'bummer'. 

I had to half drag my feet back home, added to that was the weight of self realization that jogging is not for everyone. Some people make it look so good whereas I ended up looking like a beetroot about to collapse of a heart attack. And the fact, that my knees just gave a protesting creak as I sat down to write this post.