If someone rises at 6 a.m. on a Saturday just to run all or part of 3.1 miles, they don't deserve to be heckled.
Now, I might not want to break bagels and bananas with my fellow runner after the race, but I won't knock anyone's decision to hit the asphalt.
Not everyone thinks that way, I learned this weekend. The Hipster ... ahem, Historic East Nashville 5K wound through the trendy neighborhood never venturing more than a half-mile from the start/finish line.
Nearing the finish, I was about to pass a college-age girl when a middle-aged runner who'd already finished gave her this strange bit of encouragement.
"C'mon, you don't want to get beat by the fat guy, do you?"
Yelling "Fuck you" with children in earshot never felt so good. The girl and I shared looks of bewilderment at the old duffer's comments.
Now, since runner's knee kept me from my normal thrice weekly jogs, I have not turned into Chris Farley impersonator. No amount of toning has an impact on the weak Melville chin, unfortunately.
But dammit, that soured my Saturday. I always thought it was an unspoken rule of running - not every is born Kenyan, or with a body shape conducive covering long distances.
So cut them some slack.
Besides, should I sit at home at not run?
If it did wonders for the physique, America would be bastion of health, not bulging seams.
2 comments:
that's bull-oney. that man should be castrated.
but you're going to feel really bad when you get the race pics back and see a sad, crying purple Grimace in the background.
Actually, I heard Grimace told the guy to go eat a c_ck, and he wasn't talking about chicken.
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