I just finished reading A Walk in the Woods, in which Bill Bryson recounts his adventures on the Appalachian Trail. At one point he's staying at a hotel in Waynesboro and needs to get some supplies; someone suggests he try K-Mart:
"Where's your car?" he said, preparatory to giving directions.
"I don't have a car."
That stopped him. "Really? It's over a mile, I'm afraid."
"That's OK."
He gave his head a little dubious shake, as if disowning responsibility for what he was about to tell me "Well, then, what you want to do is go up Broad Street, take a right at the Burger King, and keep on going. But, you know, when I think about it, it's well over a mile--maybe a mile and half, mile and three-quarters. You walking back as well?"
"Yeah."
Another shake. "Long way."
"I'll take emergency provisions."
If he realized this was a joke, he didn't show it. "Well, good luck to you."
I think a lot of people have a very low threshold for being impressed by athletic endeavors.