My late father, Sy Cane, was a gentle and understated man. He once wrote an angry note that read:
F*ck you. Strong letter to follow.
Out of respect to my father's memory, I am beginning a new (and presumably regular) section in this humble blog, called "Dear A$$hole". In it, guest contributors and I will rail against the athletic indignities that are thrust upon us during our training and racing.
Our first contribution comes from the lovely NSQ and was written shortly after her return from Riverbank State Park, where apparently there are no rules and no enforcement.
If I yell "track" while you are slowly walking in lane one, I would hope that after the first lap you'd figure out the etiquette. After that, my elbows will be sharpened and I'll hit you every time. Walking in lane 8 burns just as many calories as doing so in lane 1. If you refuse to yield lane 1 and move to an outer lane with your fellow pedestrians, please do not then accost my timer and/or me, and do not threaten either of us with bodily harm as it makes you seem not only selfish, but ill-mannered.