Street Mockery: A Possible Pitfall To Taking Up a Fitness Quest

It's been suggested by more than a couple of people that I write this blog to inspire others, not only the obese with looming health problems (like the recent me), but also couch potatoes everywhere who would benefit from exercise inspiration. I don't know if my potential for motivation is realistic or not, but I'd hate to think for one second that I would ever write something that would discourage someone from firmly grasping the reins of their life and yelling "giddy-up!"

I worry that there might be someone reading this, now or in the future, who is sitting on the fence and might be scared off by something I write. So don't take this story as something to worry about. I don't. We fat people often have a thick skin anyway. I don't let myself get bothered by these things and I tend to forget about these types of incidents a couple hours after they happen, and you can too.

There are a lot of teenagers in my suburban neighbourhood and there doesn't seem to be much for them to do but roam the street in packs. When I got to the point in my walk (time-wise and geographically) where I start jogging I saw a pack of teen-aged girls walking a bit ahead of me in the middle of the street while I was on the side walk. I thought to myself that this'll be a test to see if I can jog publicly without being self-conscious. It was much earlier than I usually walk-jog so the streets and side walks were a lot more busy than I'm accustomed. Nevertheless, I had little hesitation about it since I've been getting a lot more relaxed hustling my large but ever-more capable body around these days on foot and bicycle.

I hit the button my my iPod for my "powersong" (the Nike apps have have a powersong you can jump to when you want to kick it up a notch) and I began jogging. Heart rate monitor attached, I tried to make sure my pace was nice and slow like I usually have it. I wanted to make sure I wasn't going too fast due to people watching.

I trotted along and kept an eye on the girls waiting for them to notice. With music blasting in my ears, I could still see their body language and understand what was going on. One looked back at me, told another, they all looked and it went on from there.

One girl broke from the crowd and decidedly wandered in front of me on the side walk and slowed down. A lifetime of being overweight conditions you to ignore things like this. However--and I blame my combative and troubled childhood for this--I wanted to punch her in the back of the head. Instead, I side-stepped her while attempting to ignore her and her friends, at least on the surface.

But they weren't done. Small groups of them mockingly started to run down the street then fall down, feigning exhaustion. By the time I got to the intersection of a main street, they had fallen down on the street, in the lane of oncoming traffic and an SUV stopped right in front of me, causing me to quickly run to avoid it. All told I had not kept my very slow pace that was usually no more than 78 percent of my maximum when I jogged, a fair way shy of the 85% I'm supposed to stay below.

By the time I left the attention-starved, hormone-laden teen girls behind (and a horrified driver) I had unintentionally got my heart rate 20 beats above my 85% limit, just 9 beats below my maximum heart rate. My chest was starting to tighten and I was sucking wind like crazy. I couldn't get enough air. At first I was stubborn and didn't want to cut short my jogging routine (6.5 minutes) but a few moments later, I came to my senses and started to walk again. It took quite a few moments for my heart rate to recover to a reasonable level. I was discouraged, pissed off and lucky I didn't have a heart attack.

When I first started exercising in the spring I was doing a 20 minute walk around my block (It's a huge block due to a green space and school.) One Friday night I encountered a large group of very hyper young teenagers near the school. I crossed to the other side of the street before I was anywhere near them but one boy had to notice me and get inspired. He dropped his pants and mooned me from about ten yards away. Once again, I had music blaring in my ears and it was all visual only, but I wanted to tell him I wasn't interested. He seemed desperate to impress the girls he was with and a comeback like that probably wouldn't have gone over well.

I'm a big guy. I'm six feet tall and apparently have anger issues. People should leave me alone. If you're a woman, maybe you might feel more vulnerable. But don't. I see overweight women walking alone in my hood every night. No one hassles them and if they ever did, they'd have to deal with me. I'm much more capable of kicking someone's ass now that I was five months ago!

If you are worried about these kinds of rude confrontations, don't walk late at night like I do. But remember, they're harmless. And we all know these little screwhead punks will grow up to be fat, sedentary and friendless.

Give them your pity, but not your attention.

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UPDATE: I have been touched and astonished at the anecdotes friends have shared on Facebook regarding this post. Apparently I'm not alone and there are some terrible, cruel people out there. But they're mostly kids who will one day know better.