How to stab idiots while sticking to your running regime.

For too long now as a young girl and now as a woman I have kept quiet.  Afraid to offend, or worse, afraid to embarrass myself by assuming that the insidious whistle, clucking, smootching, “heybabyyyyyy” that was just belted out was not infact for me but for some beautiful girl walking behind me that I cannot see and by yelling back “youdoes!” i’m actually lining myself up for a fat snotklap of laughter as if i’m not worthy of these noises.  Pathetic I know right?

So it would make sense that when my daughter came home stupendously pissed off after receiving such “insert whatever kak it is that men decide to hurl at woman as they drive past” remarks my head hit panic.

“Scream and yell and tell them what assholes they are”….wait no….what if that pisses them off and they come BACK and instead of verbal abuse actually physically attack her.

“Ignore them my love just pretend you didn’t hear them”.  HOW the fuck can she not hear them??? What message am I telling her to lower her head and keep quiet? To allow this verbal wave of abuse to flow over her and that it shouldn’t affect her. To pretend it didn’t happen.

But not to antagonize them.

Not to enrage them.

So that she is safe.

When in the history of manness has “tssk tssk” ever landed you the woman of your dreams? That they think …strike that. They don’t think.  I don’t get it and it pisses me off.

SO….imagine that while i’m running my little 5km route along from Fish Hoek to Glencairn, its pretty, no wind and the ocean is chilled and i’m in my zone and counting off the minutes and paces as my buddy Mel has coached me to do “we’ll get you back in the mountains in no time!! Just do this 3 x a week “.  If  that sage advice was an antibiotic i’d have relapsed i’m afraid as this is possibly the first time in 2 weeks…mmm…3 ok. Anyway, I digress.

I’m running, or doing that thing i do that isn’t quite a walk, and the only stares or interaction i’d expect from anyone is to ask if I need medical assistance, apart from that i’m pretty sorted. Sweaty, old orange hat, husbands T-shirt, my socks don’t match my tekkies, glorious, just as advertised on Runners World  #nailedit

I’m digesting the latest remarks about “sexist harassment while running” from my  daughter and trying to find some pearls of wisdom on how to cope with it when a man rides past on his bicycle dressed in overalls, i’m assuming on his way to work, and as he glides (a generous use of words as his style didn’t lead to me believe he does this for fitness)  by he lets off a “heybaybee” with a few lip smacking adjectives. Now seriously, the tyre around my waist is bigger than both his on his bike I look like shit, nothing “haybaybee” about me at all!

and my years of silent rage erupt. “FUCKYOU IF I CATCH YOU I WILL STAB YOU!!!!!!!!”

It was at that point that he turned around and looked at me, him nearly clipping the pavement (the beauty of that moment would have been sweet to savour but alas was not to be) and he saw me break into run, as if I was chasing him. Obviously he wasn’t to know that my weapon of choice was  my Toyota key and the only reason I was running was that my 40 paces of recovery ala Mel was done and I had to start running again.

No, he was not to know that at all.  All he saw was a sweaty, ridiculously pissed off woman with wild hair chasing him. In all fairness I would have run as well.

It felt so good, to be SO loud and SO vocal and SO angry!  So it appears I have found my solution and my voice.  Do not be silent, do not accept these words passively but give them hell and sharpen your key.