Saturday, May 28, 2005

Don't interrupt me!

Just finished working out. I roller ski every day. Roller. Ski. Skis with rollers on them. They roll. I use ski poles. if you want to know more about what in the heck that is. Roller skis are a bit, um, unusual. At least here in Chicagoland. So I'm always getting goofy comments and odd looks. I've been doing this in the Midwest for over 20 years, so I'm used to that. Acclimated to it. And don't really mind.

But what I do mind are interruptions. Folks who want me to come to a dead stop in the midst of my workout to explain what, exactly, I am doing. And why. And is it fun. And where can they buy roller skis. And how much do they cost.

And could you give me a URL for that?

Perhaps this makes me self-centered. Ungiving. Not neighborly, nor friendly. But I do not want to stop exercising to explain these things. I'm in a groove once I get moving. I've got my radio on. I'm on pace. Feeling the breeze. Enjoying my body moving smoothly across the not so smooth city streets. And stopping feels like torture to me.

OK. Not exactly torture. Maybe chalk on a blackboard. And it interrupts the flow. And I don't like it.

If this happened once a month, perhaps I'd feel differently. Perhaps I'd be inclined to be more generous with my time. But it happens once a week. Sometimes more often. Well-intentioned folk full of interest and curiosity. Friendly, extroverted people who genuinely want to know. I don't care who they are. I don't want to talk to them while I am skiing!

Do people walk up to folks in gyms and ask them to stop walking on their treadmills to discuss what brand of shoe they're wearing? Accost bike riders on the street to ascertain the model of bike being ridden? Pluck basketballs from the air just prior to rimming the basket to determine who made it? I think NOT, my friends.

Why so little respect for the practitioner of the odd sport? I'm busy, people. I'm zoned out. It's a huge part of motivating me to exercise, that I'm going to have, say, 25 minutes of flow time. And if you interrupt me, while we may have a perfectly pleasant conversation, I will not move back into that zone. You might as well interrupt my orgasm.

No, don't do that, either!

Maybe this is the little tiny price tag I must pay for choosing an unusual mode of exercising. I know. Children are starving in China. Civilians and military alike are being killed for oil in Iraq. Is this worth taking up bandwidth complaining about? Well, maybe not. But it's my bandwidth. It's my party and I'll cry if I want to . . . .

Until tomorrow,


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