Nearly a year has passed since we first published this piece and still people don't get it. WALK IN THE OUTSIDE LANES, DOUCHEBAG!!! The following is an encore presentation of Blog Day Afternoon... cue Saturday Night Live theme song
On either one of the tracks I run a problem persists. There are people engaged in an activity called walking like a douche bag. This "exercise" is characterized with flinging arms and flighty contortions. The adept squeeze their ass cheeks like they're smuggling a tooth brush into the country. Their lesser skilled counterparts waddle a bit more aimlessly. Either way, they're a problem.
For one thing, they're slow. An average runner will pass the average douche bag twice in a single lap. On a crowded track, each douche bag counts as two obstacles. It's not like they provide scenary either. Douche bags are consistently larger than runners. They don't provide scenary, they block it out.
For another thing, they lack etiquette. According to Miss Road Manners, "the inside lanes are for the faster runners. These speed demons are training. They are focused and concentrating on their performance. Don't get in their way." Since I agree with her completely, Miss Road Manners is a noted expert in the field of runner's etiquette. Too many douche bags take the inside lanes.
At a local college, I regularly bump into a quintet of very large black women whom I've dubbed the Offensive Line. These ladies have been walking like douche bags for years. They squeeze into exercise garb designed for girls a fraction their size and they WALK FIVE ABREAST!!! And not just any five lanes, they take the middle five.
Since we haven't yet been introduced to the neighbors on the right, we've been for to improvise. As far as we're concerned, their names are Deadbeat and the Fatchick. My wife created "Deadbeat" and I was responsible for "Fatchick." While Cher lacks definitive proof to claim that Deadbeat is indeed a deatbeat, there is little doubt and massive evidence to support my assertion. This weekend Deadbeat and the Fatchick were paid a visit by a particular type of douche bag, the racewalker.
I know he's a racewalker because a decal on his car claims him thus. That sticker can mean only one thing: Behind my back, walking like a douche bag a "sport." WTF? And Matt was upset because gymnastics is a sport. Can it be possible to organize a race in which nobody says, "Fuck these douche bags, I'm gonna to run."
Augie Hirt retired from the "sport" with the "number one long distance racewalking ranking." According to him, racewalkers should be able to carry on a conversation with other competitors. Physical exertion is for participants of actual sports like sprinting and cross country skiing. Hirt now teaches the "sport" of racewalking according to its rules.
Over time I've seen many runners and walkers on the tracks on which I run. Casual observation bares witness to a trend: runners get fitter, walkers do not. I've never conducted research to verify this observation, but the Department of Epidemiology at Queen's University, Belfast has conducted one such study.
Concludes Dr. John Yarnell, "Moderate and light levels of regular exercise had no impact on death rates from all causes or specifically from heart disease." However, those undertaking the most strenuous activities had the lowest death rates from all causes. Researchers defined light exercise as walking, bowling or sailing, moderate exercise as golf, digging or dancing, and heavy exercise as climbing stairs, swimming and jogging.
I watch Jerry Springer, so I'm in no position to criticize the pastimes of others. It is likely that people walk like douche bags for reasons other than fitness or health. Number one racewalker Augie Hirt, mentioned the necessity of conversation while racewalking for a reason. Walking provides fresh air, conversation and commaraderie. Nothing wrong with that. But a lot of tax dollars were taken from citizens to build sidewalks. WALK ON THEM, YA STINKIN' DOUCHE BAGS!!!
--
Truth be known this was not quite an encore performance. Its content was edited upon discovery that I was a terrible author on April, 19 2003.
