On a cold, wet evening after work I decided to go for a nice long jog. After all, nothing gives me greater satisfaction than jogging. Especially if I want to set my mind at ease and forget all the work-related stress that I just survived. First I get out of my work clothes. Of course in the tropical climate of Trinidad, the most appropriate attire would be something loose-fitting. At my work place most people are going to the gym which is right next door to the main work building. Not me though. I honestly can't see myself in the gym along with so many other people. It's not my thing. Although I have to admit that I do in fact get asked, 'why don't you join the gym?' 'I prefer to jog,' is often my reply. So I put on my running shorts and vest and get my running socks and shoes on. By this time the sun is still kind of hot but its bearable. The time is about after five in the evening and I am well set. The ground or savannah as we call it is walking distance away and I am eager to proceed on my routine which will take me at least an hour. I leave the house with a bit of excitement. My heart is thumping and the blood is pumping and I am raring to go.
So I start to jog. One of the first things that I notice is the amount of odd stares I get from people. 'Why is he doing that?' 'If you know how ridiculous he looks.' They probably think to themselves. I couldn't care less though. I am truly enjoying this. I enter the savannah and the first thing that greets you is the scent of bush burning. Then there are the dogs following you around while you jog. Thankfully they don't stay around you for too long though. Of course there are the children at the ground playing football and the occasional odd ball comes my way. I use what ever limited footballing skills I possess to retrieve it and kick it back to them. 'Thank you, sir.' They say with gratitude as I respond with a 'No problem.' Of course there are those on the field who are just there for a cool evening walk and they are quite entertained at the sight of my constant circling of the ground. By now the sun is showing a bit. Even though the ground is still a bit damp. I have now lost count of the amount of laps I have done. One of the many skills that I must master is how to avoid the odd puddle. I manage to do so a couple of times but then I suddenly forget and I misjudge the depth of the puddle and I end up making a big SPLASH! 'Oh damn it.' I shout in disgust as the muddy water splatters onto my lower legs. 'I guess all this is part of it.' I think to myself.
Then I get carried away in my thoughts. I am suddenly in the Olympic Games and this is the final of the men's marathon. I am my country's last hope for a medal and I am putting everything on the line to ensure that I make the podium. All odds are stacked against me but I have the will to win. I somehow pull off a miraculous victory to a standing ovation from all those watching in the stands. I have just become a sporting hero. Yeah I know, its silly isn't it? The kind of funny things that pop into your mind while you jog. My run is complete now as beads of perspiration cascade down my face and body. 'Mission accomplished.' I say to myself. Okay let's face it, I'll never be an Olympic Champion. But at least for one hour on a cold, damp evening, I am able to win the admiration of a few with my somewhat limited athletic skills.
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