The epic post from Totes Inappropes herself….
Are you or could anybody that you know be a running wanker?
Think about it…it’s startling but you could be a wanker without even knowing it!
It starts off innocently enough. One day, it’s all under control…
A little 5K race…
And then ParkRun…
Maybe a 10K race.
But these gateway events are just that.
They can and do lead to much more extreme events.
Soon a 5-kilometre race isn’t enough. A 10K just won’t suffice. Your little recreational run with friends on a Saturday morning is being replaced by a Sunday morning half marathon. You used to think that it was epic that you could run ten miles but all of a sudden ten miles is a short training run.
So, you look at marathons…
You’re running every day…
You’ve had your gait analysed and bought some trainers that would have fed your family for ten days.
You sad fuck. You’ve put some of that tape on your leg and started talking about your IT band.
You start reading Runners World. You keep telling yourself that it’s okay. That you could stop anytime…
For fucks sake, you promised yourself that you never would, but you’ve gone and bought a buff! You didn’t used to know what a buff was!
Your friends and family are becoming increasingly worried about you. You have had nights when you’ve laid off the booze because you have to get up in the morning and run.
And then you ask for a Garmin for Christmas. You’ve sunk so low…What has become of you? You’ve started looking at Ultras. The next thing is that you wake up one morning and you’ve booked to run seventy miles in twenty-four hours. Worse still, it cost a hundred and eighty quid!
The sad truth is that many runners start off with a ParkRun but it’s just not enough. They have to go further and further to get their highs. They join running groups of likeminded people, who encourage their behaviour. Soon, they’re entering trail runs, making excuses to family and friends about their shady behaviour.
Take Our quick quiz to see if you have entered into the murky world of running wankerdom.
One point per misdemeanour. If you answer affirmatively to over fifteen, there’s no fucking helping you. You’ll probably die doing hill sprints.
You’ve used a foam roller.
Sunday mornings are sacred. Sunday mornings are for long runs!
You’ve bought special underwear for running in.
You’ve read a Runners World article and got something out of it.
You’ve bought a buff (you sad fucker!)
You’ve got scars from chafing.
Bought some Bodyglide.
Experimented with gels and claim that you’ve found one that doesn’t taste like spunk (you’re lying)
You’ve joined a club that use a track…An all time low…
Hill sprints, what’s next?
Lost more than one toenail.
Shit the bed! You’ve got some trail shoes!
You’ve spent more than ten quid on a pair of running socks.
Got overexcited at an expo and bought some really expensive shit that you don’t need.
You own compression socks.
Fuck compression socks, you’ve got those arm warmers that Mo Farrah wears!
Feel bad on days that you don’t run.
Have done a run that makes a picture on Strava.
Done a ghost run.
Tried an ice bath.
You’ve run wearing someone else’s running number, so and had to smile every time someone shouted “Come on Trevor. You can do it!”
You wouldn’t buy a race photo? Would you?
You’ve not got pissed on a Saturday night because of a run on Sunday.
You own more than three running jackets.
Entered the ballot for the London Marathon repeatedly.
You own more running kit than real clothes.
You have taken an outdoor shit on a run.
You don’t bother with portaloos on race days. That’s what bushes are for!
You cried when Eliad Kipchoge ran under two hours.
You consider Decathlon as a good day out.
Considered doing an ultra.
Ten miles is an easy training run.
Done an ultra.
You know where your IT band is.
Popped a blister on your foot with a needle.
Taken tailwind in a plastic bag on a flight and explained to everyone concerned that it’s not cocaine.
Worn a Camelback.
Sworn that you’ll never race again and then promptly booked another race as soon as you finish.
Been unable to walk downstairs after a race and had to come down on your bum.
How did you do?
Up to five – There’s still hope!
Five to ten – Fucking pull yourself together!
Ten to fifteen – You should be ashamed!
Over fifteen – You poor sick individual! There’s no fucking hope…
There is hope for the afflicted. It’s not too late. We are running intensive courses for these poor addicts. Please get in touch if you’re suffering.
Hi, my name is Totes and I’m a running wanker. X
We have a group on Facebook called ‘Run Bitch Run’ for people that like running, boozing and swearing – wound shots encouraged…