“KEEP RUNNING, YOU FAT FUCK!”
I was about four miles into a 6-mile run when the distinguished passenger in the beat-up sedan rolled down his window, leaned out, and shouted his unorthodox greeting at me. Even with my headphones blasting and over the sound of my labored breathing, I heard him. Loud and clear.
He was a kid. Just a dumb kid. I was that dumb kid once, so it’s hard to get too upset. The kid shouting awful things that seem funny to 17-year-olds everywhere, but will cause you to cringe with the passage of time and the gaining of wisdom. A kid who hasn’t yet realized impressing your friends by insulting strangers isn’t funny, and real friends don’t need to be impressed by tearing other people down.
I understand the folly of youth which is why I never even looked back. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t get to me.
Yes, I’m fat. He wasn’t wrong about that. And while fat people make for easy targets under normal circumstances, fat people running is fish in a barrel. Our red faces, heavy breathing, and bouncing parts that shouldn’t bounce create more than fertile ground for hate-filled passersby looking to score a cheap laugh. I get it, and it is what it is.
But I think there are a few things that kid should know about the guy he decided to ridicule.
I’m fat, but not as fat as I used to be. I’m working hard to be less fat and more healthy, and the main way I’m doing that is by running.
I ran a half marathon 6 weeks ago. My fifth one in four years. So while I’m sure I look disgusting and lethargic to you, I actually work my ass off and my endurance is probably better than yours. How humiliating would it be to lose a race to Fatty McFatterson?
Sometimes I run with my sons. In fact, I’ve started a really nice tradition with my oldest where he joins me at the finish line of my half-marathons. Would you have screamed that at me with them there? Are you comfortable with an 8-year-old hearing his father rudely cut down by a stranger? How would you feel if someone made fun of your father’s appearance? I bet you wouldn’t like it.
I was in the middle of a 6-mile run. You were riding in the comfort of a car. Now which one of us is lazy?
As you so eloquently pointed out, running does not come easy to me. I’m not built like most runners, and I’m always going to struggle. But I’m out there getting it done anyway, despite knowing there are people like yourself out there ready and willing to take cheap shots.
And finally, why yell at the person actively trying to change? Granted, you shouldn’t demean anyone like that, but to publicly shame the person who had the intestinal fortitude to improve his lot, get out there, and put in the sweat equity to change and improve? That’s low. And your lack of class is far worse than my fat ass struggling to run.
So here’s to all the people out there with a few extra pounds. The people who are far outside of their comfort zones and pushing themselves to limits they didn’t think they could reach. Here’s to the folks running away from health problems and toward a future with their families that isn’t cut short by complications from diabetes or cardiac arrest.
Here’s to all the men and women who might not look the part, but are out there getting it done and putting in the work. The people who will never come in first, but work twice as hard just to finish.
To the immature little punk tearing other people down to make himself feel better, please know this fat fuck will indeed keep running. I can always get slimmer and faster, but you’ll probably always be an asshole.