The Run Don’t Run Guide to Pedestrians

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In which I try to deal with my increasing levels of pre-marathon anxiety by being unreasonably harsh on my fellow pavement sharers

It was during my last longish long run that I spent maybe a bit too much time thinking about pedestrians and how much they upset me after three minor incidents in the space of three miles. So many seemed to want to insist on grabbing my attention in so many different ways:

1. The “we’re joined at the hip, three abreast” pedestrian

These are probably the ones I meet most often and bug me the most. They travel in groups of three and like to take up the full width of the pavement. If a fellow pedestrian is walking towards them, one will drop behind leaving a handy gap for him or her to get by. If the pedestrian is wearing running shoes, they will suddenly become a single, unbreakable unit, oblivious to the world around them, forcing the runner into the road, at the mercy of juggernauts.

2. The “right lads, watch me bring this runner down a peg or two” pedestrian

The we’re joined at the hip pedestrian blocks my way in a passive aggressive way. This type of pedestrian is a bit more “in your face” and wants to interact. My last confrontation of this type was on the same longish run when I thought I was going to have to deal with three teenage boys who were joined at the hip. Instead, one of them put his hand up ready to make contact with my face, a bit like how a police officer would get oncoming traffic to stop. This caused a very sudden change of pace on my part, jarring my up-til-then perfectly conditioned body, and much hilarity for my new pedestrian “friend”. If I have any pains during next week’s marathon, my use of Cockney rhyming slang for “banker” in response to the hand in my face will have been entirely justified.

3.The “pssst, I’m actually an undercover runner” pedestrian

I shouldn’t really complain about these because they mean well, and, if I’m honest, I often fall into this bracket. At the slightest sign of someone breaking into a trot, maybe if they see someone quickening their pace to catch a bus, your undercover runner will adopt a knowing smile, nod and cross to the other side of the road to make sure the runner has ample space to continue his or her noble art without obstruction. More extreme proponents will run into the nearest shop to buy a bottle of water, shout “good running” and offer the water to their newly acquired hero. It’s also handy to carry a large placard with the words “You’re Awesome” scribbled on it to guarantee any passing runner will be reassured you’re not a category 1 or 2 pedestrian.

4.The over-tolerant pedestrian

These pedestrians wrack me with guilt as I run away from them. If they were dogs, on a spying a runner they would drop down onto their bellies and wag their tails sheepishly as the runner passes by. They are not worthy (or so they think). I once slammed into one of these as both of us appeared for different directions on the same corner at about 6 o’clock one morning. He looked like he was on his way to one of those early-start, relentless, on your feet all day kind of jobs. I, meanwhile I was feeling smug for simply having got up early and wasn’t watching where I was going. And of course he apologised. I think I did too, but was wearing headphones so who knows how the words came out.

The “pesky kid” pedestrian

Actually, it’s not so much the pesky kid pedestrians that irritate, it’s the parents of pesky kids who stand by, oblivious to the chaos they leave in their wake, who need to up their game. These are the kind of parents who, when not letting their children ride their scooters or even bikes around supermarkets, let them run riot on canal-side footpaths amongst walkers, cyclists, dogs….and runners. The result is not unlike the opening scenes from a particularly uninspired episode of Casualty. During my almost fateful run there were occasions when I nearly ended up face-down in duck poo or even in the canal as small children, being children, suddenly changed direction by ninety degrees, did pirouettes or hurled themselves onto the place I’d next planned to place my foot. Meanwhile their parents looked the other way, missing the chaos unfolding behind them.

So that’s pedestrians neatly categorised (or is it?). If you’re a pedestrian (and we’ve all been there, even me), maybe sometimes you could try to be a bit more pedestrian*?

* pe-des-tri-an (adjective): not imaginative or unusual;

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