I was nervous and excited – hosting my first social run. Who would show up? How do we handle different paces? Will people want to go grab a beer after?
I really wanted it to go well because I wanted a nice jog and some new pals. What better way than to host a friendly social run!
The first guy is walking up and he looks … like he might have a slow pace. First of all, he’s a big, big fella. Second, he’s wearing sweatpants, sandals, and a big hoody. Why is he dressed like he’s doing 5k to couch?
Ah, another guy walking up! He’s a skinny, sort of unbalanced looking guy.
Great. Good start.
Hey, a girl, all right! She’s a bit older … more power to her, right!?
I give a friendly hello to the three and begin to question myself … I am the only one dressed for a jog. Why am I the only one dressed for a jog?
“Are you guys here for the social run?”
The skinny fella looks at me askance and the older woman barks out “RUN?”
I look at my phone quickly, wanting to double check that I am at the right location, and that’s when I see it, my post “social rub” … that simple little difference, the distance between the keys ‘b’ and ’n’ on a keyboard.
I sigh, stifle a tear, grit my teeth, it’s time to be a good host.
I am looking at maybe going to a social run on Tuesday night and I noticed how easily someone could have a typo and what a very different crowd this small typo would lead to attracting. Anywho, occasionally I remember that some family might read my blog and … well, let’s just remember that I’m a big old weirdo.