I try to avoid irrational dislikes for large groups of people, but boy do runners make it hard.
Part of that’s probably geographic. I feel like you can either be the trendy city that closes its streets for some marathon or triathalon or whatever on a bi-monthly basis or you can be the quaint kind of city with lots of one-way streets and unexpected dead ends on a defiantly ungridded system; Madison does both, and gleefully. So I do begrudge the running craze some of my time wasted in traffic.
But mostly I live and let live. As long as you’re not trying to shoulder me off the one tiny shovel-width path Madison gets down to by around the middle of winter or actively blowing snot on me we can probably overlook the runner thing.
Triathletes, now? They are a source of perpetual fascination for me. You’ve got three events (run, bike and swim), two of which are torture in the heat, one of which is brutal in the cold, and all of which suck in the rain. So no matter what the weather’s like you’re guaranteed to have a bad time at least some of the way.
I thought about making a writing metaphor out of it (or a drinking one, always a reliable fallback), but I suppose everyone finds some pastime or other incomprehensible. The moral of it escapes me, just now. “We all suffer for something or other so pick what you think is worthwhile”? Something like that. I’ll take my writer’s-chair-butt and hangovers over being a runner any day, at any rate.
‘Course, this one might be a little poorly-written because I’m sick and can’t sleep, so who’s to say there isn’t something to an aggressively healthy lifestyle? I’d save on ramen and Tabasco, at least.
…what? What else would you do for a sore throat? I’m poor.