So I walk three miles or so a day, and I try to do those three miles in 48 minutes or less. I'm not bragging, I'm just...wait, I totally am bragging. I can walk pretty gosh darn fast when I'm alone and have good songs on my iPod. (I'm chubby...let me have my moment.)

Anyhoo, I have a new annoyance to complain about. I realize I seem like some sort of human complaint machine, but I'm pretty sure my parents raised me to be this way on purpose. Or maybe I just want someone else to blame. Or maybe I didn't get enough sleep last night and I'm now all jacked up on Honey Nut Cheerios and two extra-large cups of coffee. At any rate, I'm mad.

Mad at the sidewalk-hogging couples.

I'm going down the sidewalk, which is built for two people to walk side by side, NOT THREE. No way. Not even three tiny little people (I'm imagining leprechauns, but you go ahead and imagine whatever you like). I am obviously focusing and very, very sweaty, so you can plainly see a neon sign above my forehead that says something like, "You are standing between me and my ice cream sandwich. MOVE."

It doesn't always say that. It's really just a metaphor, but I think it gives a better mental picture of what my demeanor is while walking. I'm pretty terrifying.

So these couples just keep walking, side by side. It's as if they think that walking in single-file for five seconds is going to break up their marriages.

FOR REALS?!? You can't move? Last night, I was doing the walk (it's the big loop in my town, so a lot of times I see people twice, as they're doing it in the opposite direction, and I'm way, way faster than them....with their little feet and short legs...ha ha ha, suckas) and ran into the same couple twice. Both times, they forced me off of the sidewalk and into the street.

Normally, I go into the street anyway when I'm by myself. It's easier and it doesn't make anyone but me have to move. When it's getting dark, though, and there are a lot of cars parked in the street, I'm not going out there. I really enjoy having my entire body intact, thank you.

Next time, I'm going to say, "EXCUSE ME!" and see if that does anything. It's like cars that hog the passing lane and don't actually pass when you're stuck behind them, trying to get to Baskin-Robbins before they close (or in some other emergency situation). Except there's less cussing and crying.

Actually, next time, I probably won't say anything. Maybe I'll be able to crop dust them or some other hilariousness. That will teach them that maybe they should give me some space, and maybe they'll go out in the street.

Or maybe they'll realize that their love is strong enough to withstand that 5-second separation. I hope.

SINGLE-FILE, children. Single. File.