In the Northeast, where space is already at a premium, the simple act of walking on a sidewalk is nothing less than a social wrestling match, and pedestrians are losing. To clarify, I’m not talking about the gigantic assholes who, with both ears plugged, walk willy-nilly, even when a 4,000-plus pound car is right next to their oblivious hips. No, I’m talking about the regular Joe Citizen who minds his own business and sticks to his side of the pavement. Here in Boston, if it’s not clucking coeds walking four abreast, then it’s the bicyclists in tight-as-hell compression clothes making the morning commute miserable.
But standing above them all as the most annoying species in Bahhstohn are the joggers. Every single day and multiple times a day these sweaty, headphones-wearing jerkoffs bump and prod their miserable bodies through traffic, outside dinner parties, and individuals guilty of nothing more than being late for their daily appointment at Dunkin’ Donuts. When they can’t say “Excuse Me” at a barely audible level, these road hogs just blaze forward in order to keep pace. To top it all off, when forced to stop at a red light or when they encounter the type of pedestrian congestion that they just can’t plow through without receiving a serious beating, they huff and puff as if we all should feel bad for interrupting their workout.
Look, I care about America’s obesity problem as much as the next guy, but I don’t particularly like it when some healthy busybody shoves their chafed buttocks in my face and expects me to give one single fuck about their lifestyle choices. Go be sanctimonious and full of vegetable juice somewhere else. There’s a reason why cities are full of gyms. They not only provide a space for white collar grunts to accomplish a moderately strenuous exercise three times a week, but they reduce sidewalk congestion by housing the New Balance Army in one place.
Better yet, go to the woods and run. It’s Massachusetts; you’re never very far from either a man-made hiking trail or an actual, God-made track full of interesting shit to look at. I don’t know about you, but when I’m running, I’d rather look at birds, trees, and rivers rather than other schmucks doing the exact same thing I’m doing. Don’t these joggers even care that we all hate them?
While this may seem like a very urban disease, I’m sorry to report that it’s even infected small towns. Back in another life, I used to live in Burlington, Vermont, which is the largest city (a glorified town, really) in one of America’s most rural states. Not only did joggers pollute the scenery there in droves, but I remember watching one jogger cut off a cop car as he ran right across a major street during a green light. The Bernie Sanders supporter presumed that he was in the right, so he twisted his gaunt body and gave the cop attitude. Since this happened in America’s most openly socialist city, the cop just drove on as if nothing had happened. Such moments make a person think that Francisco Franco might’ve had a good idea or two.
Blame the individual or blame the culture of our blue cities, but the jogger menace needs to stop. I suggest giving them a sharp elbow anytime they run up behind you unannounced and expect you to make way. Better still, every time a jogger passes you without saying “Sorry,” let’s turn the sidewalk into a middle school hallway and pull their greasy shorts down. I for one wouldn’t mind joggers so much if they spent a couple of minutes every day awkwardly pulling their overpriced gym gear back up to their guts.
Or, alternatively, I could just stop being a jagoff myself and drive to work.