The oncoming stranger is 10 years older and 15 kilos heavier. The woman you just passed is five years younger and a head taller. The guy you glimpse up the road is your age and built like a bull. However, you know then all, in the tiniest of ways.
From their laboured gait to their red faces, they are like your joke mirror image at a fairground: distorted but recognisable. You know their legs are as heavy as yours. You know their hearts are pounding too. You know that they, like you, are part of a very special group. You know that they, like you, share the same secret.
Because none of us will win prizes. None of us will break records or earn trophies. None of us look quite right in the kit or quite comfortable in our chosen pass time. But, none of us minds. That is our secret. None of us worries or wants more than the sound of the pavement under our tired legs and the feeling of warmth radiating from our aching limbs.
We are the joggers of this world, happy to be out, happy to be doing something good for our bodies and our minds. We are lifted by the sight of a fellow jogger, who catches our eye, grimaces, maybe even smiles, and bobs their head in a way that says I see you. I feel it too. Keep going. Yes, however different our exteriors might be, we recognise each other and we nod, because we are the joggers of this world, and we stand united.