Her eyes looked to see if she could find a way across. The buldozer was shovelling earth in front of her, stopping her in her mechanical movement.
She was thin, not too muscular. Her hair was tied in a pony tail that jumped up and down as her feet barely lifted from the ground. She found the path across and jogged further, her arms straight along her body. There was no grace, no bending of the knees, no motion, really. I imagine her all prepped up and well made up, a glass of water in the hand, telling her beautiful healthy friends how she jogged an hour this morning. She will probably forget to mention the air filled with the cars' and buldozer's fumes, and she will gulp the water down, convinced that she'll stay fit. For ever.