Mitch Blum

Dear Old Man Jogger,

Please know that today and forevermore I love you.

I love how you jog up and down my street every day. Well, I suspect that you run every day but I don’t actually see you every day. Perhaps you take a day or two off a week. You probably should. You don’t want to get shin splints or anything.

I love you because you’re old and you jog. You jog a lot more than I do and I’m at least 40 years younger than you. You jog by my house. You jog on the promenade by the beach and you probably jog in other areas that I don’t frequent.

I love you even though your ribbed wife beater is threadbare and full of holes. I love you even though you look kind of grouchy. I love you even though you barely grunted at me that one time I said “hi” to you. And I still love you even though you smelt really, really bad that one time I tried to say “hi” to you.

I consider you an inspiration to all old people between 70 and 85. I thank you on behalf of the oldsters in town.

On the other hand, you should probably know that you make people my age feel guilty. I know that I feel guilty when you jog by my house and I’m stuffing yet another Suzy-Q down my piehole.

Either way, I just wanted to say that I love you. And good luck with the jogging.

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