Legs

I passed by three young teenaged boys waiting for their bus at a stop when I was out running this weekend and they immediately tried to break me down. I couldn't hear all they had to say because I had my earphones on playing some sort of cheesy 80s dance tune. I only heard bits and pieces of their criticism. One of them sarcastically said something about what I was wearing. He started jogging in place, mocking me. You can almost feel hate spewing out of some young kids at that age.

I don't wear running gear that most people do. I can't bring myself to wear those black tights. I don't care how hot a guy is, but get him into those black tights, a lightweight, highly visible jacket and bright gloves; it's not sexy, even when he's running. I wear fleece jogging pants with a drawstring, a hooded sweatshirt and retro-looking running shoes. In some ways, I want to live my adult life now as if it were the 70s (when I was only a kid).

So, there's me running in navy sweatpants and a maroon hooded sweatshirt with a zipper: nothing underneath it but my sweaty, fuzzy chest.

When kids make fun of me, I'm emotionally transported to back when I was a skinny, little kid wishing he could be strong enough to fight back. The only thing I had to keep me alive then physically were my feet: emotionally, I had my spirt and optimism for the goodness in people. I didn't want to hurt people making fun of me as a kid. I just wish they wouldn't direct their hate so much against me, someone they don't know.

There I am running past these loud boys but now I'm older and much stronger. I sometimes shut off my music when a group of people are near me just to see what they are saying about me, if anything. Luckily, I sped by these teens fast. I didn't hear that much. I felt a little angry but nothing to ruin my run. At that point I'm thinking, "Do these kids know I'm 41? Do they know I had just run 5 miles at that point and had way more than a mile to go? Could they keep up with me? Could they run as far as I have when they are 41? Should I bother to stop my running and have a little talk with them?"

I had enough strength at that point to take them all out, but I didn't. I just kept running and smiled their way. Once again, I have my feet to keep me alive and that's one thing I feel really thankful for in life. Just one of many things.

For the record, I made it home and ran 6.38 miles in just a little over an hour. Woo hoo!!