- You’re walking your dog on a peaceful single track forest trail when a runner approaches, poles in hand – you say hi, but as soon as he/she passes, you mumble something to yourself similar to this: “Fucking idiot with your poles – I wish I could snap those fucking things and shove them up your ass – dumb fucker, running with poles!”
- You have yelled at, pleaded with, and prayed to God that your injury be healed, NOW, and directly thereafter you break into a jog to see if anyone is listening, only to feel the pain again, whereupon you start yelling, pleading, and praying all over again.
- You have been to see every single health care person in your town other than your doctor and have concluded that they are all fucking idiots who have never run and that you should definitely go back to school in order to take their jobs from them and tell them how fucking useless they are.
- Your wife/husband, your kids, and your pets have all been witness to your emotional meltdowns at some point and upon asking what’s wrong, you reply that you can’t run and wonder if you’ll ever run again, to which they look at you in bewilderment and ask, “then why did you just go for a run?” (insert “dumbass” at the end of sentence for spouses and pets)
- You have pushed, prodded, and even punched the site of your injury to the point that it’s difficult to tell if the original injury remains or if it’s just a result of your unwavering and unrelenting attention and hypersensitivity to it.
- You’ve spent countless hours on the internet, researching and studying the causes, symptoms, and treatments for your injury – and you still aren’t sure exactly what it is, but you refuse to see your doctor to get it x-rayed or imaged for a proper diagnosis (because you’re sure that just a slight adjustment in your gait when you run later that day will be the magic bullet!)
- You start your day with the 3rd or 7th Step prayer, but at “take away my difficulties” and/or “remove from me every single defect of character,” your thoughts turn directly to your injury and you start to rage and swear at God, only to realize at the end of the day in Step 10 that you need make amends for what you said.
- Your sponsor has been curiously asking you to write another 4th Step inventory and every time you talk to them, you feel like they’re being witness to a horrendous car wreck or natural disaster.
- Every single runner you drive by is an asshole with poor form and stupid attire – it should be you out there enjoying the fresh air and sunshine and not some puke plodding along on their once in a while blue moon jog.
- You’ve said to yourself countless times “Fuck it, I’ll just go back to drinking” but then you very soberly go back to dealing with life on life’s terms with peace and serenity in your heart…and your fists and jaw clenched tight – and if one more person asks you what your next race is, you’ll fucking strangle them on the spot while yelling in their face that you don’t fucking know.
Omg these are hilarious. Only a runner-alcohol would get it.