Life has a funny way of separating and then bringing Krystal and I back together. I can't remember the year, nor is it important, but Krystal and I were both back in Angola for an extended time and we decided we were going to get fit.
We saw them often, jogging or briskly walking around town - not because they didn't have cars or had run out of gas somewhere, but because they wanted to exercise. I know, weird. Donning yoga pants and zippered hoodies or the once popular track suits, the fitness elite braved the streets rain or shine and many of them did it an an ungodly hour, like 9am. On a crisp fall Indiana day, we decided it was our time. With sneakers on our feet and cigarettes in our pockets, we set out to do what only a limited few in our small town had done - become fitness elite of Angola.
Although I lived less than a mile from Krystal, we decided it would be best for me to drive to her house and then begin our trek (we both shuddered to think of walking that distance alone - what would people think?). We were off, enjoying the fresh air and each other's company. One mile turned into two, two turned into three, and then both of us were struggling to make it up a slight hill on a back country road. Choosing our pride over our cell phones to call for help, we were determined to make it back; after all, fitness elite don't need rides back to civilization.
After a minor scare from a galloping miniature horse in a fenced-in field (that looked a lot like a charging attack dog), our confidence in our stamina was growing, but our bodies were cursing our adventure and repayed us by turning our legs into concrete. Practically crawling back to Krystal's, we encountered something that would change our lives forever: a fellow athletically inclined Angolian who gave us the signal. The signal was nothing more than a half-hearted wave, but to us it was magic. We had arrived. We were officially among the fitness elite of Angola. When the waver was out of sight, we stopped and each smoked a celebratory cigarette, basking in our new-found status.
That's something that no one will ever be able to take from either of us. Well, maybe an attack dog could, but chances are it's just a miniature horse anyway.
We saw them often, jogging or briskly walking around town - not because they didn't have cars or had run out of gas somewhere, but because they wanted to exercise. I know, weird. Donning yoga pants and zippered hoodies or the once popular track suits, the fitness elite braved the streets rain or shine and many of them did it an an ungodly hour, like 9am. On a crisp fall Indiana day, we decided it was our time. With sneakers on our feet and cigarettes in our pockets, we set out to do what only a limited few in our small town had done - become fitness elite of Angola.
Although I lived less than a mile from Krystal, we decided it would be best for me to drive to her house and then begin our trek (we both shuddered to think of walking that distance alone - what would people think?). We were off, enjoying the fresh air and each other's company. One mile turned into two, two turned into three, and then both of us were struggling to make it up a slight hill on a back country road. Choosing our pride over our cell phones to call for help, we were determined to make it back; after all, fitness elite don't need rides back to civilization.
After a minor scare from a galloping miniature horse in a fenced-in field (that looked a lot like a charging attack dog), our confidence in our stamina was growing, but our bodies were cursing our adventure and repayed us by turning our legs into concrete. Practically crawling back to Krystal's, we encountered something that would change our lives forever: a fellow athletically inclined Angolian who gave us the signal. The signal was nothing more than a half-hearted wave, but to us it was magic. We had arrived. We were officially among the fitness elite of Angola. When the waver was out of sight, we stopped and each smoked a celebratory cigarette, basking in our new-found status.
That's something that no one will ever be able to take from either of us. Well, maybe an attack dog could, but chances are it's just a miniature horse anyway.
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