Long-legged derby

On a regular day; just like any other; I find myself at the gym running to my heart*s content. Being very competitive by nature; I feel quite proud of my speed for running and my aloofness to the physical exertion. I glance to the man beside me. His is a higher speed. No need to hide my running prowess. I amp it up and drive my little legs to match his speed with ease.

My peripherals watch his easy strides and compare to my own quick short steps to conform to the speed that we both have set. I must lengthen my steps. My legs welcome the stretched out pace and slip into the new stride length.

Not more than a few seconds later the young man increases his pace. The nerve. His posture still suggests that the pace is easy and slow for him. Blast. The height to leg length ratio is vastly different between us two individuals. What to do? I gauge my energy reserves and decide that I can handle it...for a little while. I stack my courage and punch the button. The going gets a little tough. My legs are getting tired and wobbly like jello. Sheesh. He makes it look easy. His legs are as long as Ponderosa Pines!

My breath comes out in short little puffs and my energy quickly runs out. Now I consider myself to be quite in shape. But honestly those of us with shorter legs must produce more reps per minute in order to cover the same amount of distance. This long-legged young man continues to take a stroll while I struggle on. Of course the time comes that he leaves for another part of the gym walking nonchalantly and my allotted running time comes to an end, I fall off the edge of the treadmill barely maintaining equilibrium. 

Oh the woes of a short-legged life.