If you’re old enough to get the connection between Kate Bush and jogging… you’re probably old enough to understand my situation.

I jog all the time. But I am slow. Damn slow.

I’ve been wondering if it’s historically psychological, dating back to 1976 when I delivered the literary masterpiece known as The Orillia Packet & Times. Today I think it’s just called the Packet or maybe it’s The Times. Regardless, it was our daily paper and I had thirty-eight households who counted on me nightly for their fix of town gossip, national headlines, and the odd wire story about some far off land like Communist Russia. No internet news feeds back then kids, but we did have telephones, television, and telegraphs!

Back to my slow jogging.

My paper route required me to walk past the house of my Grade 7 teacher’s parents every day. That’s right, my teacher’s parents. Well according to these retired creatures I was the slowest walker they had ever seen. Not only that, but according to them, I walked with a tilt. To make matters worse, apparently I was talking to myself the entire time.

They used to time how long it took me to pass their house. In pork chops! Yep, some days if I was feeling limber, the head of the house would have himself about ¾ of a chop, replete with apple sauce while I was still in sight. Other days, perhaps I wasn’t quite so quick, like any day called winter. On those days I was up to a chop and a half, plus a few bites of boiled potatoes mixed in.

Oh my, the scarring I endured when I heard these details. Not sure why I heard them though. Is that the best my alleged mentor could provide my folks during parent teacher night? Brutal.

Slowly I will get back to my point.

I noticed the other week when I was jogging that I am really slow. I have a Nike+ system (no, this isn’t a paid blogging plug) and I love it. Of course I am so old I call my iPod a Walkman. It’s true. But I have had it for three years and my Nano is still going strong. I love listening to music when I run, and I love knowing how far I run. Lately I have been paying attention to how fast. Oh crap is I slow.

The system tells me my pace and I didn’t really realize how slow I was until I did the math. If I ran a 10k, the hourglass would empty. If I ran a half marathon, I would miss the movie and the trailers. If I ran a marathon, I would miss the Grey Cup and the Junos. Ok, maybe not that slow.

But I am slow. I used to make excuses when other joggers lapped me.

“They aren’t going as far as I am.”

“They don’t have a backpack full of work clothes on.”

“They aren’t 223 pounds.”

But the technology won’t let me hide. I am slow and I have to figure out a way to speed up.

I’ve tried a few different angles. Sometimes I daydream that I have won a really big pitch! Other times I think I am coaching the USC Trojans in the Rose Bowl! Another favourite trick is to pretend I am the oldest Olympic marathon champ ever and I am racing the last 500 meters to glory.

Once in a while I listen to a playlist that includes personal coaching from Serena Williams. She tells me to speed up. She tells me to slow down. She asks me if I would be embarrassed if she saw me right now. I might just ask her next week at the Rogers Cup. Maybe during a changeover I can catch her eye. Hey girl… how bad did I look in Moore Park last week?!

My newest technique is the “Gale Sayers.” Besides being the greatest football player of all time (narrowly beating out JC Watts IMHO), he is also the inspiration for my initials…MH3. (Yes it’s juvenile, but if you can figure out what it means I will give you a prize.) Sayers had a brilliant but too short NFL career, ravaged by knee injuries. But he was the greatest open field runner ever.

So when I get really slow, you’ll see me start weaving past benches, trash cans, parking meters and flower pots. My head tiled down, my imaginary # 40 jersey tight against my chest, my right arm pretending to cradle the pigskin, and off I go. Weaving, deking, cutting, and speeding way from imaginary tacklers… all to the sounds of Running Up That Hill ringing in my ears. (Oh I love my Walkman. )

Does it work? Well, the real Gale Sayers once scored six touchdowns in ONE game. When I need a little boost down the sidewalk…I make it seven!