The running man

I met a man the other day who looked liked he was running really fast, but he was moving really slowly. It took me a long time to be able to understand what he was saying, as it took him such a long time to say it, but it turned out that in fact he just saw time differently from the rest of us.
He had been born in Northern Africa six million, five hundred and seven thousand, six hundred and thirty eight years ago, and had basically been running north ever since. He was definitely human, though when I looked hard I noticed some slight differences in his appearance; deep-set eyes, a sloping forehead, all-round hairiness. He was also wrapped in bear-furs, though they were so worn they had an appearance of modern patent leather.
He described to me how as he ran trees would explode out of the ground around him, he could witness the whole life-span of creatures of all descriptions as he passed. He had been in a huge fertile plain when he got caught in a vast, violent flooding that left him swimming across the rest of what we now call the Mediterranean sea. He had seen countless cultures, civilisations and eventually empires rise and fall, heard thousands of different ideas on how we got here, who and why we are, and seen the most beautiful works of art created and destroyed. He had experienced the very best and very worst of humanity through infinite wars and recoveries. Most recently he had been struck by the rapid growth of our own huge stone, metal and glass structures, and I think I saw a tear beginning to form in his eye as he remembered the earth he used to know.
It wasn't a short meeting; I spent the best part of a day with this man though we travelled about a metre and a half in that time, and I've related all he told me.