A Walk In The Park. Part four.
Above all, do not lose your desire to walk. Every day I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness. I have walked myself into my best thoughts, and I know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it. ~Soren Kierkegaard
Walking takes longer... than any other known form of locomotion except crawling. Thus it stretches time and prolongs life. Life is already too short to waste on speed. ~Edward Abbey, "Walking"
Everywhere is walking distance if you have the time. ~Steven Wright
Once I realized that the elderly lady's intention was to pass me on my left side of the walking path I was forced to make a decision.
My action options that came to mind were the following:
A) Let her simply pass. There is no shame in walking a little slower than a woman who probably plays bridge with someone named "Madge" every Thursday morn at the the senior center.
Fake injury to ensure that when she passed me she would do so knowing that it only happened because I was reeling on the ground due to some sort of physical problem. ...C) To reason with her. Maybe I could just tell her that unlike her body that is 70 % water, my system is composed of 87 % mixture that is made up of pork fat, sugar, Cold Stone Ice Cream, and straight uncut Horseradish. I could explain that while I concede that she is a better and more fit walker than myself, that perhaps she could slow things down a bit so I could delay my small remaining puddle of testosterone from being forever ripped from my soul.
D) I could just walk faster than the woman who was probably recovering from hip replacement surgery.
While each of the four options had their own pro's and con's to sort through I knew that my time was running out. The red suited, white hair-sticking out from the sides of her matching red hat lady was now only a couple steps behind me. I knew this because I could smell the unique geriatric cocktail on her breath that consisted of equal parts grapefruit and blood pressure medication. I had to choose now!
I could not select option A because while I am not a competitive person who has the ambition of a spoon, I was not prepared to admit that I could not simply "out walk" an elderly lady. Call it pride, but I did not want to be the dude who was passed by one of the Golden Girls. Yes before you ask I am certain that the Roedel elders who were watching me from the spirit world on their close captioned screen must have been proud.
I could not select option B because I was not sure how which type of injury to choose. I did not want it to be something that she had maybe seen before, and thereby compare my acting to how a person would really have acted like. I considered that she has never seen anyone rupture a spleen. I wondered to myself how someone acts when they rupture their spleen. I was unsure what that would look like, so I considered how I might rupture it myself in a way that she wouldn't be able to notice. Then I remembered that I am a sissy and when I encounter real pain I scream in such a manner that it causes birds to drop dead up to to thirteen miles away. My high pitched feminine wailing has also been known to mess with satelites and microwave ovens
I decided against option C because after making eye contact with her a few moments earlier I knew that my pleas of mercy would not be met with any Grandmotherly compassion. It would just allow her as the shark to smell my metaphysical blood in the water. I knew that she really wanted to not only pass the 30-something year old younger man, but she wanted to crush my spirit at the same time. I know this because when I looked into her eyes I saw the same look from a small child twenty years ago who inflicted great damage to my person.
**TANGENT ALERT** He was a fair haired boy who had walked up to me in our schools gym and smiled a ghastly wide smile at me.. I being the great communicator offered my hand out to bridge the gap between my teenage world and his 1st grade one. Instead of shaking my hand he clinched his fists in two a ball of rage and landed a punch that landed in my um..."private valley of happyton farms". It was a punch that sent my soul speeding from my physical body and into the rafters that hung above me. I was able to watch my now purple skinned body crumple to the ground the body at the feet of this demon/boy/one-who-does-respect-my-right-to-someday-conceive-children-of-my-own-someday. From my out of body perch above the unfolding scene below I remember asking in a broken whisper why this lad had for no reason whatsoever brought the hammer down on Cha-Cha central. He did not answer...but I remembered his eyes...they were merciless and mechanical in nature. They were eyes that were filled with only the desire to break me into a thousand little pieces.
Those are the same eyes I saw in the woman behind me. I knew I would have better luck trying to convince the President of Iran to vacation in Tel Aviv then getting her to slow her pace a bit. I knew that option D was the only way to go. I would have to beat her.
Maybe if I could stand up to the lady in the red suit I would be in some strange way going back in time and standing up to the little boy who gave me a level 9 racking. I was going to walk for all the extremely out of shape, obese, short men who find themselves being pushed around by the power walking seniors in their respective parks.
So for the first time in my walking career I told my engine room to crank us up to walk speed 2. My pace went from my happy jaunt through the daisies gape to a walk with a purpose. I was walking like a man who was not going to be passed. From behind I heard a slight growl of disapproval from my ancient adversary.
The thumping of her steps grew faster to indicate that she also had a walk speed 2.
"Sorry Estelle. Passing me today won't be so easy" I whispered under my now jagged breathing.
The race was on.....
KEY WORD DEFINITIONS:
Private Valley of Happyton Farms - Er...the central...um...place...where. Ok, so you know when a man and woman get married and love each and...crap...uh.......nevermind.
Cha-Cha Central - See Private Valley of Happyton Farms.
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