While out for a casual 5k waterfront jaunt Monday, on what was a calm, quiet, and beautiful evening in our picturesque seaside town, I happened to pass a group of 5 or so smokers outside a restaurant when one of them, in what can only be assumed as a nic-induced fit of idiocy, hurled in my direction “Run Mother-F**ker, Run!”
My first response was no response. I just kept my focus ahead, kept my pace the same, kept on going.
And then I spent the rest of my run finding the right words to craft a witty, jibing, and perhaps even hurtful response. I couldn’t let it out of my head. If only I said this…, or I wish I would have said…, or I should have at least flipped him off. Or, man, wouldn’t it have been great if I simply called out this mouth-breathing troglodyte in front his cronies and pointed out his limited intelligence, stunted growth, and waffle-iron-like appearance then maybe I would prove that he and all these other copycat morons who believe there’s safety in numbers when spewing sexist or racist or anything-ist epithets at innocent reporters trying to find truth in a news story, or the innocent runner trying to enjoy a lovely evening, that FHRITP or RMFR are nothing more than jealousy- and insecurity-induced bursts of hatred that shouldn’t be given the time of day.
And then the bulb went on in my own limited brain… I had done the right thing with my first response. I ignored it. I shut it down and moved forward. I ended the conversation. I failed to validate his pathetic comment. I ran and he and his fellas went back to their smokey hazed conversation.
So to you, RMFR slug, and all the other hecklers out there (including the guy who once threw a ham sandwich at me from his moving car) I say this: .
That’s right, nothing. You’re not worth my attention.