I hate telling people I’m a runner because there’s only two places the conversation ever goes from there. The person can tell me that they run too, and we both veer off into a discussion of races, trails, and the hallucinogenic effects of dehydration. And that’s fun. But, even with running’s booming popularity, odds are I’m talking to a non runner… and they’re about to call me stupid.
“I only run if something’s chasing me.”
“It sounds like you’re wearing yourself out just to get right back to where you started.”
“God I hate running. Why would you do that?
“Running is so boring.”
“You know you’re destroying your joints/feet/knees/etc.”
You’ve probably heard all of those before. Hell, most of us have heard them so many times we even have canned responses (If you only run when something’s chasing you, then you’re not going to be fast enough to get away when the time comes, and so on). But if you stop and think about it, it’s a weird thing to have gotten used to. Do you respond to people telling you about their hobbies by carefully phrasing your responses to show off your contempt? I mean, I’m a giant asshole, and I figure no matter what I say I can probably get away with it, because there aren’t many people fast enough to catch me and kick my ass, but I still have a hard time imagining a scenario where the first words out of my mouth when someone reveals they spend their downtime dressing frogs in top hats and tails to better facilitate a table top dance number are “But, why? Doesn’t that mean you’ve got to wipe up all the little flipper foot prints?”