Ok, so this post technically isn't a sport shop story because it occurred outside the shop. But, I felt it was necessary, because it was a surreal moment, something that had never happened to me before, something I felt I needed to share with the world. Plus, I haven't written anything in ages and weird shit like this inspires me, which after reading this you'll probably find a little unusual, but yer, whatever.
So, after a days work at the sport shop, pretty busy day actually, a Monday as well which was a pain, I was on my way home. Now, my journey home involves nabbing a lift off my manager, which he is more than happy to do. I think it's because I'm such good conversation, I mean I talk to him all bloody day I would've thought the last thing he's thinking of is spending more time with me. Anyway, so he gives me a lift to the little town I live in, and then I begin a ten minute walk (well on a bad day, normally it would take like seven minutes but I thought rounding up would be more appropriate) up a reasonably legendary hill in my area. How can something be reasonably legendary you ask? You're about to find out...
The first thing I have to take into consideration on my journey home is the people who take the train. If all is well, I will get to the hill before the crazy commuters, if not I will be ambushed by people all around me, which sucks because I like a smooth walk. At the bottom of the hill, I can see the commuters and I know already I'm in trouble. Now, I like to think of myself of the Usain Bolt of walking, if I need to turn on the pace I'll do it, whoever you are, if I'm behind you, you're under pressure. I'm like a hyena running after an antelope on one of those animal related programmes with David Attenborough as the narrator. Except instead of eating my pray, I merely waltz past him/her and smile after my sensational work.
However, as I was saying, trouble was brewing. Brewing like a cup of tea which had been left on the side for ages and forgotten about, or you know, pouring milk into your tea after waiting ages for the kettle to boil but forgetting that the milk is off, now that's a disappointing situation right there. But this was different to curdled milk, this was walking suicide. People are coming in all directions as I watch in horror, but I know at the end, waiting for me, is home.
I managed to find a gap in the commuters, but it was a difficult gap to find, which meant the position was already questionable. At the first turn I only had two in my view, both middle-aged men, both with good pace, not pace I was willing to put pressure on at the early stages of the hill. The nearest to me was a bald man with what appeared to be walking-style shoes, this man already demanded respect, and that was what I was willing to give him at this point. On the other hand, I was well armed. My shoes were about a month old, trail shoes perfectly designed for walking, more cross country walking, but strong enough to deal with such hills as this one. However, I could sense traffic, the second man, who was ahead of the pack, had reasonable pace, but you could tell we were gaining on him. At this point, it felt more like Baldy McBalderson and I had formed an alliance telepathically in order to take out this "Average Joe" of walking.
Thankfully for Joe, we hadn't got to a point of overtaking yet, the path was narrow and all Baldy and I could do was maintain pace. It was the end of a long working day, and I could sense both were tiring, but I don't think my pace intimidated them, so all I could do was wait. The first point of overtaking was upon us, a double turning, I was relying on Balderson to make the move, he had a little too much pace for me to make the move on both men so he needed to get things moving.
This was where, in my view, the alliance was destroyed. He slowed, but at precisely the wrong moment. He was right on his tail, but didn't grab hold of the opportunity, I thought this man had balls, but instead, he just had a bald head with disgustingly average looking walking shoes which my feet wouldn't be seen dead nestled inside. He was a disgrace, and all the respect I had for the man vanished within seconds, I was now on my own again, where I should have been all along. But this distraction had back-fired on me drastically, there was suddenly someone else in the game, and he looked a real contender. When I turned back to cross the road, there he was, gaining on me, suddenly I was the bait and he the hunter.
I couldn't escape, the hunter had become the hunted. I was under the spell of the unknown genius and I couldn't get out of it, I panicked, I knew I had to pick up the pace, but with Baldy that close in front I would've just walked into him, AND THAT WOULD BE WALKING SUICIDE. Thankfully, the path had narrowed, but the unknown genius still maintained a new pace, a pace where I had been before, but I was worried about Baldy, Joe was still going at a snail's pace, and not a very fast snail at that. Let's face it, slow and steady doesn't win the race, I mean what the hell that hare was doing against that tortoise I'll never know. Well I wasn't up for making the same mistake, I had no time for rest, I had an unknown genius up my arse and a Bald Man not getting out the friggin way.
My pulse started to race, and no I don't mean my pulse actually jumped out of my body and got involved in the battle to the top, because that's just ridiculous. All I could do was look down and all that was staring back at me was the shadow of the unknown man, breathing down my neck, putting pressure on all three of us. At this point I was disappointed that my choice of song on my Ipod didn't really match the epic battle that was going on around me. I should've been listening to Eye of the Tiger on repeat but instead I was stuck with Steven Wilson's new album, a mere floaty album which I would normally listen to the day after a heavy night out to relax. Don't get me wrong, it's a fantastic album, but it just didn't add up. Nope, nothing was adding up...and I had never been under so much walking pressure in my life.
However, there was a chance, my overtaking zone, the zone of uncertainty, the opening of all openings. This was a legendary area for me, one where I did most of my best work, and people just don't see it coming. The hill had levelled out, so it was no longer a battle with the hill as well as the players involved. I sensed my legs appreciated this, and suddenly second gear was a very realistic prospect, I took a glance behind to check on the anonymous god-like walker, I've never seen so much concentration on a man's face, unbelievable stuff.
We entered the zone, and Baldy was slowing up, I had really miss-judged this man's quality, he had used up all his energy at the bottom of the Hill and was losing pace fast, I had him in my pocket. He darted left and I jumped at the opportunity, jinking round him to his right like a gazelle. And this is where I really got excited because Joe, who had maintained his averageness, had a similar line to the one I had created meaning a gap to his left, I could do nothing else but take the opportunity.
I was in pole position, number one, top of the pops, I had the freedom of nothingness ahead of me and really turned on the pace. No-one was catching me now, I wasn't turning back for Joe or Baldy, and the unknown genius? Not even he had the pace to keep up with me, he must've missed the chance.
Opening the front door was like breaking the finishing line tape, never have I been under so much walking pressure. I have never been unexpectedly overtaken whilst walking, and I don't intend to be any time soon.
So, the moral of this story? Don't be Joe, Joe ruins it for everyone. Maybe on this occasion Joe was the fool on the hill. After all, the Beatles wrote:
But the fool on the hill,
Sees the sun going down,
And the world in his head,
Sees the world spinning round.
So, basically, he wasn't really concentrating.
Idiot.
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