Since I’ve been frequenting the gym and evenings runs in prep for my charity 10k, I thought I’d share some of my running rather-nots. You know, the really annoying occurances that I’m sure you know too, but wouldn’t necessarily choose to discuss.
When somebody running near/next to you obviously miss the fact that you can hardly breathe, let alone indulge them in small talk during your run. But not only that, when I do try and reply, with a gracious laugh to save me talking, it gets caught up somewhere in my throat as I run, and comes out sounding rather like some sort of ungracious nearly-sexual grunt. And then you both continue to run in silence. Mutual thoughts of ‘WTF was that noise?!’…
When you come up against a path which can really only suffice the space to fit a line of single file joggers. Yet I’m running next to somebody, and I don’t wanna go on the road. So I’m tripping over the curb, she’s getting battered in the eye by the branches on her side and so we hit an issue. I’m not fast enough to overtake… but I’m too stubborn to slow down and let myself be overtaken. The pavement wars have begun…
When an old person overtakes me. I mean, why there are aged 55+ in a running club to start, I do not know. Yes, yes, it seems my vendetta against old people is still going strong (…it is…) but it’s true. OK, so maybe not that age, but let’s say 65+. Usually men, runners, shooting off in front of me… I mean, how can men of that age even move that fast?…
When you can’t find a pair of trainer socks, so you fold down some longer ones… and somehow, during the course of your run, one (and it is jut the crafty ONE) just crawls its way back up your ankle, resting comfortably on your lower calf. I mean, COME ON, cut me some slack. Trainers are too tight to undo quickly so I can’t fold it back over again, so I have to put up with looking like I got dressed in the dark. Brilliant.
When people wear so much high vis gear, that they’re unhealthily teetering on the fine line between human and walking traffic cone. Please, tone it down a bit. It’s not the fog lights of oncoming cars I’m worrying about, it’s you there, running ahead, all body parts adorned with fluorescent bands, blinding me with each stride. Buggar off.
Bragging your running PBs. I need say no more. If I wish to ask about your latest achievement which is undoubtedly more than mine, (and which I probably couldn’t possibly care less about), rest assured I will ask. Otherwise, zip it.
Short shorts. Again, self explanatory. In the winter; the cold and freezing winter. This man, of pension age, is in lycra… LYCRA I TELL YOU *shivers*- gross.
When you need to spit. I’m sorry to broach the topic, but we’re all familiar with it. Firstly, I have never tried enough to become capable of spitting as I run, as I fear it will end up the worst. Plus I’m a girl, so I feel less inclined to do so. But yeah, that bothers me, too.
And underwear… When you make the wrong call, and have unfortunately misjudged the ability for certain pairs of knickers to fare well as you run. But you don’t realise until you start the run- about 30 seconds in, I’d say. Too small, they fall down; too big, all sorts of uncomfortable clinching in unacceptable locations around my.. lower regions. Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about!
So, any runners out there, please heed my words of advice- that of what annoys me. Cheers.