It's that wonderful time of the year, when we can actually go outside for more than 30 seconds and not fear melting onto the asphalt. It's just lovely weather this week in Baltimore: low humidity, temps in the 70s, pure blue skies without clouds. Just fantastic for those of us who shun the infernal heat and stickiness of summer. And fall has just begun!
Something that we like to do at this time of the year is go down to the high school and walk around the track that rings the football field. As young guys bust out their football moves and run, tackle, pass and catch, there's a dedicated pack of people of all ages doin' the track.
You'll find young, fit people who apparently intend to stay that way. Lord help them, though, to take all this just a littttttttle bit less seriously! Hot a-mighty, the looks on their faces as they zip around the track, all intent and sweaty. These are the people with significant investments in lite-weight athletic gear, made just for the purpose of running in circles.
A more mid-range group of tracksters are the moms and/or dads with kids. Sometimes, the parents want to fit into group "a" above, and leave their kids panting along after them, their stubby little legs trying so hard to keep up! And, more pleasant to see, some parents actually jogwalk along with their kids and have a good time, without bringing that annoying sense of competition into it all.
Now and again you will see people who make me think of those old movies where someone has to lose ten more lbs. overnight to get into stewardess school or something, so they get into one of those white boxy contraptions that look like top loading Maytag washers, but are really sweat boxes. They only work in movies and 50's sitcoms, you understand. But sometimes on a Friday, you'll see someone who has to shoehorn him or herself into some sort of fancy duds for a gala that weekend, and they figure that if they strut around the track very intently, they can leave that excess avoirdupois right on the high school track. I wish them the best with that!
And look at who's last here! The seniors - here we are! Sauntering along at our own sweet pace, doing four laps to make a mile of it, and wondering why everyone else is in such a doggone hurry.