My “running” as a youngster and young adult — I’m 72 now and don’t even walk the mall every day — consisted of making it from first to third on a hit to the outfield when I was playing fast-pitch softball. For the life of me, I can’t imagine anyone running distances needing to take a phone along. It’s tough enough to concentrate on golf without someone’s phone buzzing in the cart. Running for a couple of hours with those potential interruptions just seems silly.
When I worked in retail grocery I always wondered why the produce guys wrapped stuff in plastic when the consumer was going to wash the item before cooking. The part about “it looks nicer when the lights shine on it” was just as bad, especially when I’m out in the garden picking things like beans and carrots and strawberries and surmising that simply rubbing the dirt off would make it clean.
Wel don, Jef. After breezing through a high-school bookkeeping class and pondering the merits and a career as an accountant — including a year of Junior Achievement where I represented GR at the National J.A. Conference at Indiana University — I veered to a career in journalism and, eventually, teaching Special Education. Even with all of that activity, I’ve battled the belly bulge familiar to many members of my family; I can’t imagine how much I would weigh if I spent my life sitting behind a desk, crunching numbers. (OK, that may be a misconception, so now all of you accountants and tax people can take a shot at my stereotype of y’all.)
good point.