What, no chainsaw?

I have been running on and off, but mostly on, for the better part of a decade and a half. I long ago gave up any pretensions to being fleet of foot (this, in fact, occurred sometime in the late spring of 1984, when at the Ruth M. Buck Track and Field Day I was unceremoniously lapped by James Ling in a two lap race - that kid had serious wheels). In organized races and just out running for fun, I have been passed by everybody - pre-teens, octogenarians, the sightless, the barefooted, the no-footed, people pushing strollers (once with twins), people pulling carts, people holding flags, people in ridiculous costumes, people in speedos, soldiers in full kit and heavy boots, race walkers, and once by a guy running backwards. But today was a new one, out for a gentle Sunday long run on the Han River path, and blazed by a juggling jogger, a joggler. The very word makes me cringe, but this guy was seriously impressive - three balls constantly in motion and moving at least at seven minute miles. Whatever floats your boat, I say.

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