• Saturday, October 02, 2010
  • 0

Thursday and i return to running following my basketball injury. every week i take some students up to the high school gym where loud rap music teaches us that we are all hard muthafucka’s. because of this we assume faces of steel and stare at the peeling wall with psychotic intensity. this prevents eye contact with our fellow muthafucka’s, muthafucka’s don’t look at each other, it might spark a gang war. I get the middle of three treadmills. The boy on my left looks like he is in the wrong gym, he is not a muthafucka at all, more of a banker wannabe in new running shoes and co ordinated running gear. his hair is brushed and styled and he has grown his sideburns down to below his ears, he looks…nice. the muthafucka on my right has been dressed by oxfam. he has yellow shorts, xxl size and a much washed red cotton top with no sleeves. he runs in brown and white striped socks. his hair is a dirty yellow to match his shorts and his teenage face is a volcanic mass of angry red and yellow eruptions. i guess in his own way he is as co ordinated as the guy on my left. because i am a barefoot muthafucka i find myself relating to oxfam boy in his socks and my instincts are proven right when after just three minutes of running banker boy stops his treadmill and climbs off. the door creaks open and two girls come in. thanks to the music i know that they must be bitches or ho’s but to me they just look like ordinary schoolgirls in pink sweats. they each sit motionless astride exercise bikes and giggle into mobile phones. the muthafucka’s take no notice and continue their stoic study of the walls. meanwhile i run my first mile in six minutes dead, i’ve never run a mile this fast in my life, being a muthafucka works for me and i am doubly hard, barefoot and twice the age of the kids around me. i imagine their admiration behind my back as i enter the zone, are they nudging each other and marveling? do they hope that they will be as fit and hard when they are in their forties? do they wish the soles of their feet are like old leather that can withstand the heat and friction of the treadmill. i am the daddy of all muthafucka’s and they can all learn from me. banker boy chooses some light weights and is doing bicep curls in the middle of the gym. the girls leave. banker boy leaves. oxfam gets a punch bag from the corner and proceeds to kick the crap out of it using some surprisingly delicate and balletic moves. billy elliot. i run 4.5 miles and it’s time to stop being a muthafucka and go back to normal lessons. i don’t limp until i’m out the door and out of sight.

No comments :

Post a comment