About 3 to 5 times per week, I head down to my favorite research park to woggercize (for those of you not up on Knit-Whit vernacular, woggercize is my word combining power Walking/Jogging/Fat Blobs Woggling like a Walrus/Exercise… though if I were to be honest, it’s 48% power walking, 2% jogging, and 50% fat blobs woggling like a walrus). That’s beside the point.
I love woggercizing at this particular place because it is convenient, has lighting if I go in the dark, has mostly evenly-paved sidewalks (well, except for that time a few years ago when I tripped and hit my head on the pavement and then walked around with a concussion, 2 black eyes, a huge cut under my chin, and a goose egg the size of an ostrich egg on my forehead for 3 weeks), etc. Because I go there regularly, I usually run into the same people… the regular research park walkers… it’s a very exclusive club… except we basically try to avoid each other so as not to have to socialize whilst huffing and puffing and woggling.
There’s the chick who wears the black hoodie and has 2 yappy doggies who hate every single gut in my fat blobs. I only try to avoid her so she doesn’t have to try to reign them both in when they go ballistic in my presence. One of them doggies hates me so much he growls at me every time I’m within 20 feet of his highness. I’ve convinced myself that she actually just lives at the park because no matter what time of day/night I am there (and I’ve tested this theory by showing up at all different hours of the day), she is ALWAYS there. I know what her car looks like and I know that her dogs think I’m a cat or a woggling mongoose… and they be hungry for blood!
Then there’s the friendly older guy who ALWAYS, without fail, wears the same heavy grey sweater vest and gloves. I don’t care if it’s 95 degrees in the shade, he’s wearing the grey sweater vest and the gloves. We always wave at each other as we pass by, and he always says something about the weather. I haven’t gotten up the nerve to ask about his attire… but it’s cold enough now to warrant wearing a sweater vest and gloves, so I’ll let him be.
There’s the pacing smoker, taking a break from work whilst pacing back and forth smoking a cigarette. There’s the muumuu-wearing shuffler… the older lady on an evening stroll wearing a muumuu (you see, Madre… by making fun of your muumuus, I’m trying to protect you from becoming that muumuu-wearing shuffler).
As you can see, we all have much in common. Next time I’m handing out invitations for our very first woggercizing club meeting… attire: grey sweater vests and muumuus… NO GROWLING DOGS ALLOWED!
PS – Thank you to all of the men and women out there who have so bravely served our country in the armed forces. Y’all are gems and we are all grateful for your sacrifices!