How to Be…An Asshole.

by Lindsay Timmington

By the time I caught the train at 61st Street to get to the Queens 10k in Flushing Meadow Park, I was sweating profusely. At nearly 80 degrees and 80% humidity I couldn’t blink without sending rivulets of sweat down my face, down my boobs and down my butt. This made me cranky. I was tired. And hot. And didn’t have a very winning attitude.

I left my neighbor/friend/race buddy at his lower number corral and trekked what felt like a shockingly short distance to my corral. I smiled at the volunteer checking bib numbers at the entrance and walked in. I adjusted my bib (#6734) and started stretching. When we crossed the starting line twenty minutes later I quickly moved well past crabby into full-on bitch mode.

People are SO rude, I thought as a dude elbowed past me.  What the hell is her problem? I bitched to myself as a lithe lady bolted by me.  These runners need some SERIOUS running etiquette lessons, I fumed as a guy swerved dangerously close to me causing me to run right through a gigantic puddle. I HATE these assholes, I growled inwardly as people continued to push past me while I slogged toward mile 2.

Inwardly I began composing a blog, “How to be…A good runner.” No. “How to be…well mannered.” No. “How to be—” WHAT THE FUCK?! Seriously lady how is it even POSSIBLE that you’re running faster than me? You run like Phoebe on FRIENDS  and  you are going to hurt someone! Ugh, I hate this race. These people suck. They are SO rude. Assholes. How do people NOT know how to pick an appropriate pace?! I grrr’ed and tsk’ed and bitch-faced my way through the rest of race all the while breaking world records in sweat production.

6.2 miles later I crossed the finish line and squished my way back to the train. Once in my apartment I stripped off my disgusting clothes and unpinned my bib, setting it on my desk. I walked towards the bathroom to shower and stopped dead in my naked tracks. I turned and walked back to my desk. I looked at my bib again.

Bib # 9734.

What an asshole.

So to the good people and fine runners of corral 6000-8999 who had to dodge and swerve around my slow and sweaty butt, I AM SORRY.

Please accept my sincerest apologies for my displays of assholery at the Queens 10k today.

It won’t happen again.

And to the girl that I literally growled at around mile 3, I probably owe you a beer.

Forgive me, for I know not how to read upside down.