Tags: Ken, People Watching, the real Ken
I like to run, even if my body doesn’t. And I recently discovered a new spot to imagine I am some elite athlete. It’s called the rail trail in this area, as it runs alongside an old, abandon rail line. It’s mostly used by bikers but sometimes a crazy person or two decides they want to run along the gravel and hopefully not get plowed over by thin rubber tires.
Well, this trail is much more amusing than running along the sidewalk in my little downtown or looping the high school track (though that’s amusing only if I go during the evening.)
I am a people-watcher. Yup. Ever since I was little, in the first row at church, I watched each and every person getting communion every week. Loved it. It definitely was an indication of my future job. Now I get PAID to be nosy!
But I digress. So, rail trail and people-watching.
I usually do an out-and-back, as I park in a little rail trail rest stop they have and run it (the trail is some 40-60 miles long.) I was on my way back, running toward the sun, ducking under tree limps recently pushed out from a nasty rainstorm, when I saw him — the real Ken.
As the man ran toward me, I took in his perfect trot: regular running men shorts (not the uber-short ones), no shirt, tanned body, a nice muscle tone, very light blonde hair. As he got closer, I realized it was Ken, but aged to 40 or 50. And what made him even more Ken?
He gave me the “Hey” look. He even mouthed “Heyyy.” You know that look, that men do when they think they are the sh*t, God’s gift to women. Just like Ken thought when he met Barbie.
Well, you know what, Ken? Barbie dumped your butt, AGAIN! I wonder why? Were you driving her crazy because she was too busy being a teacher/flight attendant/chef/fashion icon? Did all her hobbies and how she excelled at them make you jealous? Were you just No. 2 always?
As he ran past me, I held in my laughter and didn’t turn back around. After that “Hey” look, Ken didn’t deserve another chance.