Fit For Nothing Poem by John Carter Brown

Why do all the joggers keep jogging
(The old ones I mean, not the young) ?
In their flash Lycra-fitting accessories,
By the fit-bug it seems, they've been stung.

They've bought all the spiel about keeping
Their bodies as fit as can be;
The trap has been fallen right into,
At the altar they've bended their knee.

It's said that your heartbeats are numbered,
So it's sensible (though they can't see)
To use them up slowly, and lengthen
Your life and your family tree.

What game do they think they are playing
When plodding along in the rain?
A bottle of water in each hand,
Desperately hiding the pain.

Don't they know that it's folly to dice with
The natural rhythm of age?
It's easy to work out the dangers,
You don't need the brain of a sage:

Don't run in the snow or the heatwave
Your health's in a perilous state;
And that monitor stuck on your wrist
Won't help to reduce your heart-rate.

I've seen them come close to exhaustion
While they look like they're on their last legs;
Get on home - pretty quick - put your feet up,
Break open the bacon and eggs,
And consider the cost of the gym-fees,
The vitamins and health-drinks you're quaffing,
Be like me now that I am retired,
Be like me, Johnny B, fit for nothing.

(Written Sept 2013)