Keep on Jogging
New Years Resolutions are never easy to keep. Seven years ago I decided my goal would be to learn Chess. To date my only knowledge of the game is that trampling the opponent’s peaces with a toy dinosaur while making roaring noises is sadly not a winning move. My only successful New Years Resolution so far has been to stop smoking which was very easy because I had never started (so officially I still failed).
This year I decided my task would be to exercise more, eat healthier and get in shape. These goals were not easy either. Every short jog was an exhausting marathon which left me in desperate need of an oxygen mask and a stretcher to carry me home. Every snack left on a co-workers desk was a tempting offer, triggering a whisper of a voice in my mind telling me to blame its sudden disappearance on the greedy office mice.
There was several times where it seemed I would give in and fail. However, I have managed to be good and things have slowly gotten easier. I am able to resist the temptation of liberating co-workers snacks (the mice beat me to it anyway) and I no longer need a paramedic team on stand by in case I keel over during my evening run. My health is slowly improving and I can now out run every enthusiastic dog who think I am inviting them to take part in a friendly game of fetch the jogger (as they drag their owners behind them). Soon I might turn into Stuart Austin, The Six Million Euro Expat.
However, jogging has a darker side as well as a good side, its own Ying & Yang or Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hide.
On the one side a jogger is someone with a mission. As they run through the streets and fields in their trainers and tracksuit they are someone trying to improve their health through exorcise. You can see the determination and commitment on their faces as they speed by. These are qualities to admire.
However, all that changes the moment any jogger slows to a walk. Suddenly they no longer look like a jogger. Suddenly they look like a Chav. With out the act of running they simply look like someone walking around in a tracksuit as a fashion statement. The fact that they are still out of breath could be mistaken for the results of a quick get away from a shop security guard. At least that would explain some of the strange looks I have got in the street.
Don’t be silly. Dutch people don’t know what Chavs are!
So cool that Wiki has an entry for them.
Chavs are the sublimation of cockney into people. It is one of those cases.
The international joke line! Brilliant. You are forgiven.
Didn’t I see you jogging down our High Street last night?
Dutch chavs generally wear a lot of white, a lot of hair gel, and those weird “mocassin but not” shoes with beige rubber soley bits (which make me want to be sick because they are so horrible). Dutch chavs also always seem to be on the tram at the back shouting obscenities because it’s apparently funny. Sometimes they can be worse than brit ones.
Apart from that, jogging is EVIL! Evil you hear? Much better to exercise and get fit in a way you actually enjoy otherwise your resolution will last no time at all!!
Does this mean the next time I’m riding the tram in Holland, I better watch my back when I hear obscenities from behind…..it just might be Stu!!!
Ahem Stu, tjose dogs that are chasing you? They probably think you were a cat in another life….bad karma for dogs you know…better make sure you’re exorcised rather than exercised. ;-)
Sorry, that’s mean but I couldn’t resist it…lol
hold on, isn’t all of this part of your training for the Dharma Initiative ?
BlondebutBright – I was afraid I might be crossing the international joke line :)
Andy – Cockney is different though. You can be cockney with out being a Chav.
Maybe, stu do you were dodgy dutch lace-up “mocassin but not” shoes?
UH HUM!!!!!
Cockney’s are not CHAV’s.
you just have to be born within the sound of the bow bells. (I should know, I am one)
so leave the cockney hating out of it, we have feelings too.
Keith, it was me running the other night. Sorry to tell you wrong!
Yes, Keith, that was me you saw running ‘your’ high street. Then I turned on Amsterdam, then 116 into Broadway. Took two wrong turns.
Now here I am, answering your sweet comment.
Good to hearing from you.
Keith, it was me actually. Thanks baby.
I mean ‘good hearing from you’.
;)