|Overbearing, elderly family members.|
“You’re too skinny! Have some cookies darling!”
Whenever my monobrowed Nazi aunt comes to town she will typically tell me that I’m too skinny and need to ‘put on some beef’. The fact that I’m not obese like her seems to make her feel uncomfortable.
When I refuse her cookies she will get angry with me like I’ve personally offended her. Fuck that mentality. She’s encouraging guilt by the refusal of food. This isn’t the war anymore you old fool and even if were we all know what side you’d be on.
|Young fat 20-30 party-loving women.|
“Why do you run if it makes you so miserable? I’m fat and happy and free lmao totez amazeballz!”
Yes! You’re a bright and bubbly gal until you sink a bottle of Chardonnay and then drunk dial all your contacts threatening suicide.
You’ve already tried to kill yourself by eating an entire box of All Bran. What did that do for anyone? It gave you the shits for the Autumn 2012 that’s all.
Besides running doesn’t make me miserable. I just have a miserable looking head. Now fuck off and leave me alone and get back to your “partaying”
|Hardcore, macho jocks.|
“Why do you run? You’re so bad at it!”
This comes from the uberfit ‘If something is worth doing it is worth doing properly!’ crowd. Cup the balls, work the shaft, swallow the gravy. I run as it means I can get away from you without one of us dying. Get out of my face…..you scary inbred fuck!
|Miserable semi-crippled old bastards with a McDs dependency.|
“What about your knees young man? You’re gonna end up crippled like me!”
Says the motherfucker who eats 5 Big Macs a day and advises others about their diet without heeding their own advice first. My knees are fine. Or at least they will be until my Nazi aunt sends her friends around to pound my Commie ass.
“You’re selfish for not coming to party with your bros! You only live once, bro!”
Yes I understand that skipping group drinking sessions is a dick move. I’d rather just sit at home, listen to Dinosaur Jr and drink some Lucozade Sport and Vodka cocktails. It’s the athletes drink of choice you fucks! I’m in training!
And I won’t be having any of your shitty Jagerbombs or Cigars! They are for gay men! And if we’re to be gay men tonight and do it properly & with some pride/decorum, we must put on our most fashionable shirts and ready our mouths for the sucking and the fucking.
|Concerned friends, loving relatives.|
“We’re worried about you. Are you OK?”
This could be a genuine attempt to gauge your mental wellbeing or proof that your determination is frightening others.
You’re OK as long as you aren’t running around barking at people in your neighbourhood . People will try to paint you as strange if part of your character intimidates them.
Tell them to fuck off.
|Your annoying contemporaries. The people you hated in school that added you to Facebook.|
“You don’t have a life with all your running!”
This is a great one. It means ‘you don’t have my life, therefore you fucking suck!’ This comes from people who are the center of their own universe and couldn’t possibly understand that there are other valid ways to live your life. Besides running isn’t a sacrifice to me. I love getting outside for a run. It adds to my life.
|The people you liked in school and are still OK now but have 34 kids and they are only 26 years old.|
“Why don’t you settle down and relax? Stop running!”
Being almost 30, single, running at 5am in the morning, spending most of your disposable income on traveling and never wanting to start a family is somehow seen as wrong nowadays.
But I’d rather try to find some meaning and joy in my own life rather than living vicariously through my children. I wouldn’t want to bring children into this world whilst I’m still this confused.
I can envisage myself furiously sighing at 100’s of clueless little Angry Jogger’s milling around my feet all cross eyed with a belly full of Peanut Butter cups.
“Why won’t you take us out running with you dawdy!”
ARGGHHHHHHH!!!!! KILL THE SEED BEFORE IT ENTERS THE BELLY!
|The intellctual who can’t spell intellectual.|
“You’re running away from sumfing, Mister!!”
Well duh. Everyone is. When I was fat I’d run away from shit with copious amounts of alcohol. That’d never end well. Running away from the person I used to be seems to be reasonable in my mind as it’s somewhere or someone I don’t wish to be any more.
|The know-it-all-philosopher-bastard-we-all-hate|| |
“Why can’t you just chill and ‘be yourself’ my friend?”
Just as you gaze into the sky at the stars and see the state they were in years ago, the same applies when you gaze at the sad creature in the mirror. The whole idea of ‘being yourself’ is fucking bullshit.
Over the years you piece together a collage of who others in the past thought you were, then that’s ‘you’. Their words become yours. You believe their fucking nonsense. Their bitter words becomes your negative inner chatter. You’re no good. You’re the fat bastard. The lazy guy. The no hoper. The outsider.
The truth is that you can only be yourself by living for now and forgetting the past.
So resolve to do something new for yourself tonight and start afresh with your life that’ll be fucking great if you let it be.
Even if it starts anew with you running billy-bollock-naked around your town in a Stetson hat.
All the best xx