I was standing on a street corner this week and a guy who was crossing late into the “Don’t Walk” signal had to pick up the pace a little because the light changed so he broke into a really funny little maneuver I call the “not run.” You know what I mean, the run you do when you are not really running, but need to get somewhere faster. Getting out of the crosswalk, getting to a door someone is holding open for you, hurrying into the theatre before show time or catching a toddler before they take themselves out of the gene pool. OK, maybe the toddler situation should be a real run, but you get what I’m saying.
It’s not fair to mock people for their not-run, but I urge you to look around the city and at any one time during the day you are going to see at least one or two memorable moves. We all have one. Mine is kind of a straight legged, eyes down lumber, feet not too far off the ground, legs pretty straight and no arms. Arms are what make the not-run ridiculous. When I do it I’m hopelessly trying to stay cool looking, while making it clear to those who are waiting that I’m hurrying without breaking into a full sprint.