The great thing about running is its simplicity. If you have a pair of shoes, and a strip of pavement, you can head out the door and consider yourself a runner. There is no handbook. No pamphlet. No instructions.
But, maybe there should be.
You see, once you are a runner, there are indeed rules. Many are of the unwritten variety and plenty are broken on a daily basis out on the roads and in the gyms across the country. Spitting while on the treadmill? Come on, people. Running two- or three-people wide across an entire path? That's just rude.
Today, though, let's tackle "Running Etiquette for Dummies" with a lesson in drafting.
Last week, I headed out for a relatively fast-paced six-miler along the Toronto lakefront. It's a gorgeous out-and-back run that takes me by a couple parks, along the water and up and down a couple of decent hills. I run alone and I am a waver, giving a slight nod or a brief salute to the runners I can tell are also serious about their craft.
As I bolted around a curve entering my second mile, I noticed someone closing in behind me. I respected the man's speed and glided to my left, hugging the blue line painted down the center of the path -- the boundry between runners heading east and those heading west. I was giving clearance for my fellow runner to pass.
Something strange happened, though. He did not pass me.
After I shifted to the left, so did the man behind me. I glanced back and I saw a thin runner, wearing a loose-fitting tank top and some small shorts. It was the attire of a serious runner -- maybe a fellow marathoner. You would think someone of that ilk would know better than to tuck behind a complete stranger on a run.
You see, on this particular day, it was windy along the lake, especially heading west as he and I were at the moment. I was running against the wind and he was running relatively wind free. He was drafting off me, allowing me to absorb the heavy wind while he ran in a calm pocket behind me.
This was entirely unacceptable.
I pushed my pace to try to separate myself from him, but he sped up as well. I moved to my right and he followed. A few runners sprinted by in the opposite direction, nodding and waving as they ran past. I gave a nod in return, but I wanted to say, "I don't know this guy! We're not running partners!"
Because that is what it likely looked like.
It probably looked like me and Mr. Short Shorts were running buddies, taking part in some tough training exercise along the lake. In a sense, for two miles, we were running partners, though. I ran harder. He stayed with me. I shifted to the other side of the path. So did he. I moved back. He followed.
In a word: annoying.
Finally, as I was nearing my third mile, I glanced back again. And, just as quickly as he appeared, he was gone, and I slowed my pace back to my normal range. I'll say this about Captain Shadow, he gave me a good workout, because I was not going to allow him the satisfaction of passing me after his little stunt.
Drafting off another runners is one of those unwritten rules. Unless you know the other runner, and such a strategy has been approved, you simply do not do it.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
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