I could see them from about 300 metres away.. so I can only assume they could see me.
I knew it was going to happen. I’m running north on the narrow path that runs alongside the burbling, crystal clear waters of the majestic Clyde. They were running south (though to be honest they could have been running faster if they’d only channel some of the energy from their yammering mouths to their legs!).
I ran tight into the left hand side, my shoulder brushing off the metal railings that separate the pedestrian footpath from the tranquil waters. And did any of them move? Did they feck…
Jesus. What is it with women who are incapable of running in single file? Three of them … all jogging along, side by side by side… an immovable line. A wall of matching colour coordinated lycra. Each with the obligatory plastic “donut” water bottle that’s brandished like a set of knuckledusters.
Are they worried that if one of them “drops back” the other two are going to talk about them while they’re “gone”?
I know I shouldn’t stereotype. I know not all women do this, and I know it’s not only women who do this… actually “yes” It IS only women who do it (though, I repeat not all)!
Run side by side if you want. Yammer away if you want. BUT; when you see someone else coming towards you (or trying to get past you) then single up.
We came to a sudden stop – and I asked politely (though perhaps sarcastically) if they wanted me to climb over the railings to give them room? The looks of confusion led me to suspect that my sarcasm was lost on them or, worse still, they were actually considering the option.
Certainly not “keen” (never that) but “mindful” that I had to get back to the office, I cracked first and ended up going round all three of them rather than one of them letting me through.
I’d be interested to see how they got on round the corner where a tree had come down the other week and blocks most of the path.
In the interests of equality there was a time a few years ago when pavements were no go areas at lunchtimes as groups of fat, deluded, suited, office type blokes would walk along fooling themselves that they looked like the famous scene from Reservoir Dogs. “No”- you didn’t. You looked like small clusters of suited prats.