When neuroses keep us safe: Diaries of this neurotic runner.

It’s not much of a secret that I’m neurotic. I hate the sound of chewing, I can’t let the different foods on my dinner plate touch, I cry when I’m angry, I can’t sleep without white noise. I could keep going, but it continues to get more embarrassing.

However, my neuroses carry over into running. I tend to treat it like driving. In my mind there are rules to the running road. Unfortunately, I seem to be one of few people who follow those rules, but as far as I’m concerned, they exist.

I check my blind spot while running. Am I the only one who does that? Raise your hand if you check your running blind spot. Please? Whether I’m on a bike path, sidewalk, or road, I never “change lanes” or stop or slow down without checking for others. I don’t want to be the jerk that stops dead in her tracks, making everyone behind her fall all over themselves to avoid crashing into her.

I stop at stoplights, stop signs, cross walks, intersections. This seems like such common knowledge, BUT PEOPLE DON’T DO IT. I’ve actually had running partners say to me, “Are you actually going to wait at the crosswalk?”

[blink]

Yes, I’m going to wait at the crosswalk for the signal to tell me it’s OK to cross because it’s the law.

This apparently dumbfounds people.

I’ve watched people dart into traffic, cross streets in the middle of the block, sprint across the road when there is simply a break in traffic. I don’t do these things because I don’t want to get mainlined by a moving vehicle. I’m cautious to a fault.

“You mean, you’re going to cross at the crosswalk? Seriously?”

I swear, you guys.

The height of my running neuroses comes when running in a group. As a runner, one of my biggest pet peeves is coming up behind a group of runners (or walkers, for that matter), who are scattered across the entire sidewalk or bike path, leaving no room for me to pass. They’re chatting, running, paying little attention, even as I try and alert “on your left!”

When I’m with friends, running along the local bike path, a small piece of me cries inside when I notice we’re spread out across both lanes. I want to corral us, gather my friends into nice, neat single-file lines, so other runners and cyclists can pass us with ease. Meanwhile my inner monologue is screaming, “YOU GUYS, WE’RE JERKS.”

I think most of what drives me insane stems from what drives me insane as a fellow human. When I’m driving, I hate when runners or cyclists disobey traffic laws. As a runner, the bike path hogs make me cringe. Faux pas, I guess.

That or I’m crazy. Debatable.

Tell me your fitness faux pas, you guys. Remind me I’m not alone.