As a man who writes poetry, I'm used to people having stereotypes about me. I don't own a beret (though I used to, and I would wear it at poetry readings for the students I taught, for fun); I don't smoke cigarettes; and I don't really enjoy coffee. I'm not particularly effeminate; I even spent most of my early life playing sports, not mooning around in the woods composing poems with awkward rhymes (though I did do a bit of that in college). Since I'm in the South, people especially think I don't like football, the area's other religion. And that part is true, as I don't like football, no matter the level. It's not my being a poet that makes me dislike football, though; my sport of choice is running, as I've found I like my sports with fewer concussions.
Now I've just stereotyped football fans as people who are uncaring, as they enjoy a sport that injures the players they claim to love week in and week out. Those fans do care, of course, especially as so many are in fantasy football leagues. If their players get concussions, they'll miss valuable weeks of amassing points for the fans. I’m doing it again. Seriously, these fans really do worry about injuries. I know because, when they find out I'm a runner, they tell me that my knees are going to be useless by the time I'm sixty. They used to tell me fifty, but I've passed that point now, and they've had to adjust their estimations, but they're still clearly concerned about sports-related injuries.
I'm kidding (sort of). My point, though, is that we have all kinds of stereotypes when it comes to people who enjoy sports we don't really understand, or even those we do. We have a number of stereotypes about runners, even beyond the untruth about runners' knees (for the record, my knees do give me trouble at times, but they've been doing that since before I could drive, back when my sports of choice were baseball, basketball, and tennis, not running). Unfortunately, these stereotypes often keep people away from running, a sport or hobby (depending on how seriously one takes it) that's accessible to almost anyone.
Now I've just stereotyped football fans as people who are uncaring, as they enjoy a sport that injures the players they claim to love week in and week out. Those fans do care, of course, especially as so many are in fantasy football leagues. If their players get concussions, they'll miss valuable weeks of amassing points for the fans. I’m doing it again. Seriously, these fans really do worry about injuries. I know because, when they find out I'm a runner, they tell me that my knees are going to be useless by the time I'm sixty. They used to tell me fifty, but I've passed that point now, and they've had to adjust their estimations, but they're still clearly concerned about sports-related injuries.
I'm kidding (sort of). My point, though, is that we have all kinds of stereotypes when it comes to people who enjoy sports we don't really understand, or even those we do. We have a number of stereotypes about runners, even beyond the untruth about runners' knees (for the record, my knees do give me trouble at times, but they've been doing that since before I could drive, back when my sports of choice were baseball, basketball, and tennis, not running). Unfortunately, these stereotypes often keep people away from running, a sport or hobby (depending on how seriously one takes it) that's accessible to almost anyone.
One of the most obvious is about the physical appearance of runners. Supposedly, we have three percent body fat and look like we've skipped a few meals. Every day. When I was working at a high school in Tacoma, Washington, the students did a video skit where they interviewed faculty members about their supposed secrets. As the librarian (and we’ll just skip all the stereotypes here, especially about male librarians), my secret was that my favorite books were the Sweet Valley High series. Drew, the cross country coach, looked like a stereotypical runner, so his secret was that he actually weighed in the negative numbers, so he wore gravity boots to help keep him attached to the ground. Everybody laughed because it was a joke that came up so often around Drew. Nobody talked about my weight, though, as I was a good fifty pounds heavier than he was; I also ran pretty much every day after school. And I ran around the school property, so everybody definitely saw me running. Because of how we looked, people saw him as a runner and me as a librarian when we were both runners.
Runners don't help this situation, as we often reinforce those stereotypes. The best example of this approach was Adidas's advertising campaign with the tagline, "Runners. Yeah, we're different." It featured pictures of the odder behavior of runners, including someone putting band-aids on his nipples; a pregnant woman running while pushing a stroller with her child in it; a woman crouched behind a tree peeing while her friend watches for anybody coming along the trail; and the ever-popular scene of a man launching a snot rocket while out on a run. In all these pictures, the advertising agency reinforces the idea of difference by putting other people in the picture who are looking at the runners with bemused or horrified expressions (here's a link, should you want to see them; warning, there is a naked man's butt).
For the record, I have done most of what Adidas actually portrays in their ads. I have stretched in odd places (as one ad shows a man stretching in a line at the bank), though usually only at the gas station when I've run that morning, then had to drive somewhere, even on the way home from a race (and my students have often seen me pop my knee or ankle in class). I have put band-aids (or body glide now) on my nipples to avoid chafing. And I've launched the occasional snot rocket, though I've never done so around other people. I also pay attention to what I'm eating, especially the week leading up to a race, and that focus tends to get as many comments as anything else. So, yeah, I'm a runner, and I'm different.
But lots of people are different, both in these ways and in others. I'm far from the only person who stretches at the gas station or at work, as other people have aches and pains they're dealing with. People worry about chafing for all kinds of reasons. I'm guessing there are non-runners who have also had to clean out their sinuses and just didn't have the tools they needed, so they did what they had to do. And a number of people pay attention to what they're eating for a wide variety of reasons, whether that's allergies or overall health or ailments that prevent them from eating as they might like to. For some reason, people around us, even those we don't know well at all, feel they have license to comment on what and how we eat, as if they know why we eat the way we do (mine is as much related to general health and concern for the environment as it is to running). People are just different.
And runners are different from each other, as well. You don't have to do speed work or group runs to be a runner, just like you don't have to compose rhyming couplets or attend a writer's group to be a writer. You don't have to run a certain time or run a certain number of times a week/month/year to be a runner, just like you don't have to write a particular number of poems or blog posts to be a writer. You don't even have to run races to be a runner, just like you don't have to publish writing in any particular way to be a writer. The list of self-published writers is long, but I'll focus on Walt Whitman, who now overshadows much of early American poetry. Not only did he publish his book himself, he wrote an anonymous review praising that book, then included a comment Ralph Waldo Emerson made about the book in a personal letter to Whitman (who had sent Emerson a copy) on the spine of the next edition of the book, an early attempt at blurbing books. And, thankfully, you don't have to wear short shorts to be a runner.
It's time to get rid of the stereotypes about running and celebrate the diversity that is out there. Some of us take running quite seriously, and we're lining up at the next race to beat our best time (and perhaps everybody else who's running). Some of us are going out once or twice a month, if that, and running a few miles. Some of us are running to lose some weight, while others of us are happy with our bodies just as they are; we just like running. Runners. Yeah, we're different (from each other). And that's a great thing.
Runners don't help this situation, as we often reinforce those stereotypes. The best example of this approach was Adidas's advertising campaign with the tagline, "Runners. Yeah, we're different." It featured pictures of the odder behavior of runners, including someone putting band-aids on his nipples; a pregnant woman running while pushing a stroller with her child in it; a woman crouched behind a tree peeing while her friend watches for anybody coming along the trail; and the ever-popular scene of a man launching a snot rocket while out on a run. In all these pictures, the advertising agency reinforces the idea of difference by putting other people in the picture who are looking at the runners with bemused or horrified expressions (here's a link, should you want to see them; warning, there is a naked man's butt).
For the record, I have done most of what Adidas actually portrays in their ads. I have stretched in odd places (as one ad shows a man stretching in a line at the bank), though usually only at the gas station when I've run that morning, then had to drive somewhere, even on the way home from a race (and my students have often seen me pop my knee or ankle in class). I have put band-aids (or body glide now) on my nipples to avoid chafing. And I've launched the occasional snot rocket, though I've never done so around other people. I also pay attention to what I'm eating, especially the week leading up to a race, and that focus tends to get as many comments as anything else. So, yeah, I'm a runner, and I'm different.
But lots of people are different, both in these ways and in others. I'm far from the only person who stretches at the gas station or at work, as other people have aches and pains they're dealing with. People worry about chafing for all kinds of reasons. I'm guessing there are non-runners who have also had to clean out their sinuses and just didn't have the tools they needed, so they did what they had to do. And a number of people pay attention to what they're eating for a wide variety of reasons, whether that's allergies or overall health or ailments that prevent them from eating as they might like to. For some reason, people around us, even those we don't know well at all, feel they have license to comment on what and how we eat, as if they know why we eat the way we do (mine is as much related to general health and concern for the environment as it is to running). People are just different.
And runners are different from each other, as well. You don't have to do speed work or group runs to be a runner, just like you don't have to compose rhyming couplets or attend a writer's group to be a writer. You don't have to run a certain time or run a certain number of times a week/month/year to be a runner, just like you don't have to write a particular number of poems or blog posts to be a writer. You don't even have to run races to be a runner, just like you don't have to publish writing in any particular way to be a writer. The list of self-published writers is long, but I'll focus on Walt Whitman, who now overshadows much of early American poetry. Not only did he publish his book himself, he wrote an anonymous review praising that book, then included a comment Ralph Waldo Emerson made about the book in a personal letter to Whitman (who had sent Emerson a copy) on the spine of the next edition of the book, an early attempt at blurbing books. And, thankfully, you don't have to wear short shorts to be a runner.
It's time to get rid of the stereotypes about running and celebrate the diversity that is out there. Some of us take running quite seriously, and we're lining up at the next race to beat our best time (and perhaps everybody else who's running). Some of us are going out once or twice a month, if that, and running a few miles. Some of us are running to lose some weight, while others of us are happy with our bodies just as they are; we just like running. Runners. Yeah, we're different (from each other). And that's a great thing.