I’m eating a pita wrap, standing near a park, watching old and infirm men and women exercise. They are taking their time, some couples, others individuals, walking slowly around the perimeter of the field. Many do not seem pleased. It is as though they’ve lived lazy lives of excess and luxury, and now in their later years they are paying the price for overdoing it. They are probably exercising solely due to doctors orders. But they are not doing a very good job of it.
I remember my lifelong dream of becoming a fitness vigilante. I would wait for times such as these. Waiting at a distance in an unmarked panel van I’d spot some one of the walkers shuffling along and I’d pull up alongside them. I’d warn them that if they did not pick up the pace bad things would happen.
“That’s it, you can do it. Lift those knees.”