The Running Man

July 10, 2012

in OldSchool, Running In Place

I went to college at one of the top universities in the country. Top in academics, and top in physical fitness of it’s student population. Although not, ironically, top in football. Apparently we could all run. Just not while simultaneously catching/carrying/throwing a football.

And, of course, when I say we...I’m talking metaphorically.

So to see someone running wasn’t unusual. Rain. Shine. Hurricane. 6am. 5pm. 230am. If you bothered to glance out the window from the vantage of your couch, you were guaranteed to see someone gliding past, skin tight lycra glistening with sweat as the air whistled through the gap between their thighs.

If there had been a police investigation at any point? No one would even bother to mention someone running from the crime scene. We’d just assume they were out for their hourly jog like everyone else.

Unless he was The Running Man.

Do you know The Running Man?  The Running Man, The Running Man. Do you know The Running Man, he runs on university lane.

If you’ve ever seen The Running Man, you’d know it.

He’s not just your crazy neighbor that considers Richard Simmons a fashion icon.

He’s your crazy neighbor, who considers Richard Simmons a fashion icon, Albert Einstein his own personal hair guru, and may or may not be having a mobile seizure. All the way through town.

I kid you not. 3-5times a week, rain, shine, or hurricane, if you happened to be in the right place at the right time you’d see him. Long, white, wiry hair standing on end as it streamed around his head, skin tight biker shorts hanging off of hips skinnier than I had at the age of 7, his bare, leathered chest heaving with the effort of his cries to the moon, and his long, sinewy limbs flapping erratically in opposite directions.

I was never quite sure if he was actually running. If he was, it was truly impressive that he managed to stay upright and moving in a fairly forward-ish path towards wherever his destination lay.

And if he wasn’t?

Well. I don’t have to learn to run faster than him. Just faster than you.

{ 1 comment }

Krystyn July 10, 2012 at 11:03 pm

He must have been some sight.

Sidenote: I hate running!

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