As the dismal rain continues to wash out what remains of the Freedom Trail in this city, I am treating myself to some late night TV.
As I wrench myself away from the phone to prevent phoning in for my order of the machine that will change my life, presumably by getting me in a tutu and walking on my toes, I flit vacantly between channels. And one of the most exciting Olympic events is on. And it is LIVE!!
Woo hoo. Welcome to the 20 km (that is 1350 quarts for you backward non-metrics) walk. "We are 24 minutes into the race, and there is only about another 80 minutes to go". Who needs the 100m anymore, this is way more bang for your buck.
The commentators excitedly ramble on, getting all technical. "He's lifting". "He's creeping"! "There's a surge down there"!!
Did I enter a debutante ball with a demented voyeur crawling about in a state of panting excitement? Of course not, you fools, it is the cool jargon of the sport that is known as walking. Why don't they have "lazing" as an Olympic sport, too. I know all about it and may even win a medal or two.
Speaking of machines and devices, I bet everyone wants to work out with one of these. <---DO NOT OPEN THIS LINK AT WORK. You've been warned.
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