I waddle. I don’t jog and I certainly don’t run. For what I do is way too slow to be called running or jogging. And if you doubt me, just look at my Strava times.  That said, I have waddled pretty much my whole life.

My first memory of really how slow I am dates back to elementary school.  Tryouts for track and field consisted of a mass run the length of the soccer field. The big motivation of getting on the track and field team was that you could attend the spring meets and therefore miss school. That was as good a deal as you could get. The night before, I recall my mother taking me to a sport shop at Devonshire Mall in Windsor where I became the proud owner of a new pair of North Stars. I can tell you, it did not make a difference. I did not really waddle much after that until high school, other than around the bases while playing baseball.

I do remember like many, watching in horror the massacre of Israeli athletes at the 1972 Munich Olympics. I also vividly recall the heroics of Mark Spitz in the pool and golf cap wearing aptly named (for me) Dave Wottle going from last to first for Gold in the 800 metre final. Fire up Nexflix not for Chariots of Fire but the 1997 move called Prefontaine, the story of a number of American runners in those games coached by Bill Bowerman, who happened to be a co-founder of Nike and the inventor of the famed Nike Waffle Trainer.

One Saturday night while in high school, I was not invited to a party that everyone else was. Nothing really else to do and somewhat angry (although I no doubt deserved it) I went out for a waddle. I may have even used a more current model of North Stars. I remember it was dark and it was misty. And I waddled and waddled and waddled. A dark misty night is still one of my favourite conditions to waddle in; the stillness and the quiet where you can, as Eminem says, “Loose Yourself.” There is nothing to hear but your own breathing as you hope to be granted access to The Zone.

Shortly after that night, I bought a pair of those Nike Waffle Trainers. They were blue with the yellow swoosh. I am sure at the time I had no idea what Nike was, or who Phil Knight or Bill Bowerman were. I would run at night, donned in grey sweatpants and sweatshirt. I wore out multiple pairs of the waffle trainers and from time to time would take them to a shoemaker to try to get fixed. I waddled more or less every day, regardless of the weather.

That is not to say at all that I have a runner’s body. In fact, I do not. I don’t even have a waddler’s body. I am far from lithe. I have bad feet, terrible arches, I pronate and I have bone spurs on my heels.  But, I still waddled on.

Late in high school, I had a not so triumphant return to the track team. I was a long distance specialist – 1500 metre and 3000 metre. I enjoyed the training but I was terrible. I would joke at the start line that I was the “rabbit”. The first time that I finished other than dead last was my personal gold medal and took that as the perfect time to retire. But, I still waddled on.

In the last year of high school, I participated in,  as I have written about before, a “Demi-Triathlon” – Swim – bike – run. The swim was fine, the bike was fine, but the run nearly did me in. No gas in the tank, feet (did I mention I have bad feet?) ached and I was far from The Zone on hot Essex country roads. But, I waddled on and finished. Chris Morgan, the teacher sponsor/motivator and participant gave each of us a signed Argus motivational poster afterward. To this day, it hangs by my desk. It is a photo of a lone runner on a long country road with the caption, The race is not always to the swift but to those who keep on running.

And I have continued to waddle through my adult life. I do not wear Nike waffle trainers anymore, but rather Brooke Beasts. They work and given my feet, I have not changed the model of shoe for a good 25 years. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Maybe there are better, but I do not feel like experimenting.

I waddle now usually early morning as opposed to late night as I did in university. Generally speaking, if I am not waddling by 700 am, it simply is not going to happen that day.  While the running shoes and related gear take up room in a modest carry on only bag, I do take the gear with me when I travel (or used to travel). I find it is a great way to see a town or city. My favourite places to waddle are generally along or by the water. They include Cape Town, Sydney and Vancouver, Marseille and probably my all-time favourite, Nice, along the famed La Promenade.

I don’t listen to music when I waddle. I use the time as “my time”; as time to think. I have written speeches, solved problems, scripted “difficult conversations”, and yes, a few blog posts,  all while waddling. While in Toronto or Marseille, I will generally waddle the same route from the house so there is less to think about while thinking of what I want to think about.

And as for that runner’s high that people talk about. Yes, it is real. It goes buy other names as well, including Flow or being In The Zone. I have felt it often, like on the dark and misty night years ago, and even a few days ago when being caught in a deluge along the Sea. I have experienced it way more often while waddling as opposed to biking, perhaps a good thing from a safety perspective.

Sometimes it hurts, sometimes it is even slower than a waddle, sometimes too hot or too cold, and I don’t do it every day anymore. But, I have a pair of faithful Beasts in closets in Toronto and Marseille and London.  And, I certainly plan to continue waddling on.