It was when the lady shepherded her child away from me I realised I’d somehow become the weirdo people try to avoid in the park.
This understanding was compounded by the reaction of my boyfriend when I headed back home and told him the story. He gave me a hug and said, “You’re such a little weirdo”.
I’m a friendly sort you see, known to come off the phone to a bank teller in the States having diverted from the monetary topic at hand to asking about the type of snakes they have in his home town of Arizona.
Or, prior to coronavirus social distancing, spying a woman pushing her bike up a really steep hill and offering to help. Gratefully accepted, through huffs and puffs and pink-faced with effort she tells me she thought she’d cycle to work for the first time that day but didn’t check the route. How late was she, I asked. Very.
So my friendliness is well intentioned and not supposed to be, “really creepy”, further comment from aforementioned boyfriend about today’s episode.
My Rocky Moment
During the lockdown, we’d been heading to our local park, Alexandra Palace in north London, for our allowed one-hour of exercise. But on this particular day I headed out solo, and early, to do some running.
I’d set myself a target, you see, to achieve what I deemed, ‘My Rocky Moment Run’ by the end of ‘lockdown’ – you know, in those heady days when we thought there would just be the one. This involved running up a long steep hill, up some steps to the top and finishing with arms aloft. Obviously.
The incline is tough enough that it is used by proper athletes such as the out-of-contract pro footballer I stumbled across last year who told me he was trying to keep himself fit, while waiting for a position to come up. He was heading off to the Middle East to train with a club there to aid his quest. Hope he made it.
See? This is the sort of nice interaction I usually have with people when I’m out and about…
Weirdo in the park
On this particular day, however, just at the bottom of the aforementioned Rocky steps, I spotted a lady out with her young child.
While her kid watched on, the lady practised leaps and spins, which looked very much like figure skating to me – we were also by the Ally Pally ice rink so it wasn’t a huge stretch. So, staying more than two metres away, I asked her.
Weirdo: “Hi there. Are you doing skating moves there?”
Nice lady: “Yes!”
Weirdo: “Thought so. I used to do gymnastics but knew it wasn’t that and the moves you were doing looked like figure skating.”
Nice lady: Smiles.
Weirdo: “Can I take a video of you?”
Nice lady’s smile falters.
Weirdo, hurriedly: “I’m a sports blogger and I’m sharing what people are doing during lockdown to keep their sport going.”
Nice lady, looking down at her daughter: “Hmmm…”
Weirdo, finally noticing this might seem a little weird: “No, not your daughter, just you.” Seeing her face drop further… “It doesn’t matter. Only if you want to do it…”
Nice lady, looking anywhere but at me: “Erm, maybe next time…”
Mortified weirdo: “Oh, well, no worries, just a thought. Have a good day.”
So I move away. But not far. Oh no. You see, I want to finish my run and because I’m early in the process – I’m currently walking up parts of the hill, so, to increase my fitness I conclude my stop-start hill run with three up-and-down-the-Rocky-steps runs – so I need to wait for them to move out the way.
Didn’t have to wait long, the nice lady shepherded her daughter away from me shortly after. Far, far away.
Back on it
Mortified, I head home. I’m absolutely that weirdo people try to walk away from in the park.
I’m slightly appeased when I’m hesitantly friendly with a lady walking with a pram as we both reach a crossroads at the same time. We stop, look at each other and smile. She then holds her hands up in an, ‘Arrgggh’ motion, laughing at the absurdity of it all. I relax and say, “You go first”, smiling back, confidence eeking back.
Emboldened I say, “Have a good day”, and receive a cheery wave for my troubles. I’m back.
Read Jo’s other blogs, such as:
Jo’s Sport Diary (Week 3): Trump out, kindness in
Jo’s Sport Diary (Week 2): Miss us fans yet?
Jo’s Sport Diary (Week 1): So, wild swimming…
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