It’s time to stop running!

Of course, most of us remember that famous line from the end of the, “The Fugitive”, spoken by Tommy Lee Jones.

But quite often, we have to ask ourselves, “Is it time to stop running?  I’m 57, pushing 58, and most mornings, as early as 5:30, I can be found at Haverford College, doing the 2-1/2 mile loop, or on days when I’m feeling extra peppy, the 5 mile loop.  I fast walk, sometimes mixing in some light jogging and even some sprints (yes, yes, on the downhill sections).  The next morning, as I’m crawling out of bed, my body is asking me, “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

I’m always amazed by the number of other people up and exercising at that time of day and there is no shortage of personality there.  I see the younger versions of myself, trim and running at a fast pace.  Okay, I can’t recall ever actually being trim but I could run pretty fast in my twenties and thirties.  I see the older versions of what I might become and that is a bit scary.  People walking at a pace undetectable to radar.  I think I’ll even accept that one day as long as I can avoid having to buy the really big, bright white sneakers that I think have built in stability monitors.  You know the ones that don’t even have any logos.  Just wide, wide whiteness.  With the velcro straps.

The trail loop is also filled with peril.  You have the ruts, great for twisting ankles.  The mud, after a good rain.  Last time I thought I was still agile enough to jump over an 18 inch wide mud puddle I found myself lying on the ground, staring eye to eye with a squirrel and I could swear he was grinning.

Then there are the times I find myself half way around, in the middle of nowhere, immediately aware that I am in need of the facilities (and I’m not talking number one here).  That’s a time when you have to make some very difficult life choices.  Needless to say, stay away from the holly leaves.

You are also forced to encounter the most vile of all exercisers…the people who talk when they run.  Look, unless you’re auditioning for a role in the revival of ER, this is a bad idea.  First, I have news for you.  Talking while you’re running, out of breath, is about the most unattractive you can look.  It is one step above multiple stab wound speaking.  Imagine you’re enjoying a nice walk and coming the other way you hear, “So…(whew)…he says…(whew)…that he…um…(whew)…didn’t want…(whew)…to see…(pant, pant)…me…(whew)…anymore”.  Hmmm, let me guess why.

Look, even when we play pickup basketball we try not to speak while we’re playing.  And for most of us in our fifties, it’s pretty much impossible anyway.  In fact, we’ve limited our utterances to one syllable mutterings, like “Ope”, which means, “I’m open, pass me the ball”, or, “Ni”, which means, “Nice shot”.  But mainly, we just play.  Talking, while running or jogging, is not the activity.  Running or jogging IS the activity.  Save your stories for Starbucks, if they let you hang around that is.

If anyone out there used to have running partners that have mysteriously dropped off for no reason, look at the harsh reality.  Shut up and run.

Let’s not forget the dog clicks.  These are usually a group of 5 or 6 men and women with at least 8 or 9 dogs between them, all on 20 foot leashes, all entangled, and taking up the entire walking path.  You have to run into the bushes, exposing yourself to ticks, stickies and poison ivy because of dog club.  Wild dogs roam in packs.  Let’s keep the domesticated ones in single file people, okay?

There is rarely a time at my age when more than a month goes by and I don’t have that dream, you know the one, where you’re trying to run and your legs simply won’t move.  And it’s not until I’m back on the track, or back on the court that I realize that my legs can still run, if necessary.  Then you’re assured that if you see some type of assault, perhaps 50 yards away, you will have the ability to sprint there and intervene.  Now, likely once you arrive there won’t be much left to intervene with.  I fancy myself speed walking towards the crime…”Excuse me, sir, please drop that weapon or when I arrive there in exactly two minutes I will throttle you”.

The harsh reality is, that most of us who do still walk fast, or jog, or run, we do it because we realize the day might be fast approaching when we are no longer able to do just that.  And that’s pretty scary.

So forget Tommy Lee Jones, and keep running.  And when you do remember, Silence is Golden.