They're stronger than all animals smaller than dogs. They're able to leap multiple people in Uggs in a single bound. They're not exactly faster than a speeding locomotive, but they do generally at least keep above four miles per hour. They are the joggers -- and take it from me, folks, they are everywhere.
No doubt some of you are thinking, "Welcome to the party, Waring. Yes, jogging has become very popular in America. Just in case you weren't aware, we also enjoy baseball and Grandma's apple pie." This is, of course, a fair criticism. But the phenomenon is particularly pronounced here in the cradle of the Blue Ridge. I see my fair share of joggers back home and count myself among their number. In Charlottesville, however, the joggers probably outnumber the squirrels, and that's saying something.
What is it about this place that makes it so conducive to jogging? Mr. Jefferson, of course, famously recommended devoting two hours a day to exercise, but he only had in mind a brisk form of walking, the sort you do when you are trying to compose important documents or figure out how to swindle French leaders out of millions of acres of primo real estate. Still, a little cardio is the essential foundation of any good fitness regimen, and, unless you go to the AFC while "The Office" is on, you have virtually no chance of getting an elliptical machine. So jogging appears to be the thing to do. Besides, what better way to take in all the beautiful scenery that we normally only notice on our admissions tour, at Orientation and at graduation? Plus, if you are planning to streak the Lawn, as most people who have not will say they are, it's sound policy to scope out the territory first.
The jogging craze does produce some negative side effects for everyone else, most notably in the area of self-esteem. When you're trudging along at an average pace and someone in track shorts flies by, you begin to question your own get-up-and-go. "Why am I not running right now?" you ask yourself. I begin this sort of self-examination every time this happens, even if I'm planning to run later that day. It's a good thing that the feeling is only temporary; if I went on a run every time I felt those guilt pangs, I'd be a couple degrees removed from being a hamster.
We nevertheless have to admire the joggers, not only for their dedication but also for their bravado in the face of some pretty formidable danger. With the precarious state of the traffic patterns around here, a jogger can be at even greater risk than a cyclist, which has led me on more than one occasion to consider attaching a reflector to my rear end. Fortunately, good sense prevailed. At any rate, it speaks volumes about their commitment to fitness that they're willing to risk becoming a permanent part of the Academical Village to work up a sweat.
The quintessential identifying stamp of the jogger, besides the outfit, is naturally the iPod. The iPod unquestionably carries with it a certain share of drawbacks, such as making it harder for the jogger to hear his or her surroundings clearly, as well as the risk that the headphone cord will snag on a tree limb and serve as the garrote in the runner's untimely strangulation. Despite all of this, I can attest that the benefits probably outweigh the drawbacks. The duration of a run is a long time to go without thinking about anything -- it's anywhere from four to eight times the length of a typical shower. And at least during a shower I can contemplate the intricacies of my navel. Of course, the constant presence of music makes a permanent impression on one's mind. I found this out the hard way one day in class when I got back an "A" paper and was disappointed that "We Are the Champions" didn't immediately kick in.
In short, I would encourage everyone to lace up those shoes and get on the trail. As the saying goes, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em, and if you've kept your eye on the legions of joggers around here, you know you can't beat 'em. Besides, someone has to support the mesh-shorts industry, so it might as well be us. Just be sure to always stretch the hamstring and tape those earphone cords to your shirt. You never know.
Matt's column runs biweekly Tuesdays. He can be reached at mwaring@cavalierdaily.com.
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