Village Idiot

I only cut out pictures from magazines of people that I know personally, not people that I admire. But this one, this one I couldn’t resist. His head is too big for his body and he wears a huge black watch that looks like it might offset his balance. There is not much of him, just legs that are even longer than mine. He has a familiar look of someone I knew back in high school.

In the picture, he’s standing on an endless soft dirt road with an openness that can only be the Midwest and wearing running shoes that match the color of the road. The title of the article is called, "Long Shot" and it's in this month’s Runner’s World magazine. He’s listed as a US hopeful for making the Olympic marathon team.

I do not like him because he’s an underdog or he lives in Nebraska, a place I remember as a hard day’s drive when I drove across the US last year. (I stop to wonder if he has ever run in John Wayne State Park, just out of Omaha. I remember the grasshoppers flying at me with every step I took, which made the run feel like I was in a parade, with crowds cheering on each side of me.) I like him because of his quote, "Every pickup driver that goes by thinks I am the village idiot." I might have to borrow his quote with a little bit of an adjustment.

Yes, every Mercedes or Lexus driver here in Westport thinks that I am the village idiot. I laugh thinking about trying to leave work today, all dressed in my neon jacket with red gloves, an orange hat, black tights, wool socks, and running shoes. "You are going to FREEEEEZE to death,” one woman told me in the bathroom as she creamed on her lipstick and fixed her hair. “Why I think you should have a scarf or something to put over your mouth. That cold air is terrible for you."

And so here’s to you James McGown: every pickup driver might very well think you are the village idiot. But I promise to be cheering for you to make that flight to Greece. And in the meanwhile, I will keep your picture tucked away in my running log so when the days are cold and I am headed out the door, I can laugh again the way you made me laugh tonight. Village idiots unite.

By Linda English