I hate running in groups.
I know people love it, and there are countless run clubs all over to
prove it. I’ve met people who develop
their whole identity and social circle through various running organizations
and good for them.
A just forwarded me this article about Venezuelan runners
who must run in large packs to safeguard themselves against the rampant crime
in Caracas. Some nights the group is
three hundred runners strong. When I’m
running with A, there are times when the sidewalk isn’t wide enough for the
both of us. I can’t imagine trying to
run with two hundred ninety eight others, although I suppose it’s preferable to
getting robbed, kidnapped or killed. I
am glad I live in a place where on average the greatest adversities I face
while running are side stitches, pavement cracks, and cranky gas station attendants
who tell me the bathroom key is “lost”.
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