Man on the Run

“Whenever I feel like exercise, I lie down until the feeling passes.” Robert M. Hutchins

I can sprint as fast as Usain Bolt. 

At least it felt that way the other day when I had an opportunity to put my legs through their paces.

When I damaged my medial ligament, a few weeks before, I discovered a new source of pain. The healing was slow, hurting like a toothache-of-the-knee any time it had a spot of exercise.

Ready… Steady…

On the day of my sprint I arrived at the big Park-and-Ride at the north of the Forth Bridge and spotted the express bus to Edinburgh coming in close behind me. For the first time ever, I found a parking space within fifty yards of the terminal. With it came the opportunity to catch the transport and get back on schedule. Only one hassle, walking wasn’t an option? …

The Accelerative Man

What happened? A hardwired response. I found myself accelerating to a moderate, slightly lopsided lumber. The driver couldn’t see me for the terminal building. People, even older than me, rushed from a drop off space, blockers, hastening at maximum crawl; about a quarter of my velocity. The bus’s rear stuck out past the building. A gap appeared in the surging, breathless, herd of humanity. I hurtled through  and made the corner of the wall in time to see the doors close. 

Tip-toe Through the Ancients

An ancient woman, almost level with the front, gave up red-faced and puffing. I slalomed round her and caught the driver’s eye. He lowered his head, rolled his eyes and let me on. Another four or five aged sprinters, including the red-faced ancient, and the blockers, marshalled themselves behind me. The man at the wheel didn’t return my smile and cheerful greeting. Schedules are what they are, I suppose.

Daft Indeed

I found a seat. And what pops into my head? Dignity!

You must’ve looked pretty undignified as you ran for the bus. The voice sounded like HAL in  2001 a Space Odyssey.

Nobody pointed. The people behind me were relieved to see the door open. No one muttered “fool”. Did a couple really nod appreciation to me for getting the door opened?  Yes.

Like a Falling Tree

Bottom line? Nobody thought about my appearance of dignity but me. When it came to running for the bus even I forgot about it! Who said: “if a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, is there a sound?” (such profundity) If a (nearly) old fart runs for a bus and nobody laughs and points, is there any indignity?

Silly boy!
Mac Logan © 

Find out about Mac’s Writing 

This Post Has 8 Comments

  1. Mike Andberg

    I’m glad you will, Mac. I think you’ll enjoy my boomeristic strolls – must are humorous, or try to be. Thanks for getting back.

  2. Mike Andberg

    I like your blog and all things about boomer related issues. I have a blog related to such and wanted to mention that tomorrow, Nov. 23, I’m posting a piece entitled “Remember This? Cat Stevens album Tea for the Tillerman (or miles from nowhere and back again).” It’s timed to the release date of the album in 1970. I thought you might appreciate it. I invite you to read it and write back with your thoughts!

    1. Mac Logan writes

      Hi Mike,

      How could you tell I’m a Boomer? :0) Nice to meet you. I’ll look in on your blog and feedback.

  3. Suzanne Joshi

    Hilarious but a reality. :D. You can literally die trying to board a bus in India.

    1. Mac Logan writes

      Reality bites, sometimes. The joy of sharing and being understood eases the pain. Thanks for your comment.

  4. Seumas Gallacher

    Reblogged this on Seumas Gallacher and commented:
    …food for thought for we ‘after-bus-sprinting-non-teenagers’ types… from my pal Mac Logan…

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