We’ve all fallen in love while on the run and if you peruse through Craigslist’s Missed Connections page, you’ll come across a few running-related swooning. So we’ve come up with a couple missed connections on the run – a forum for runners and fans to share messages they wish they could have in person.
He was a fit (most definitely in the British sense of the word, also likely the American sense) blonde guy I used to cross paths with on an at least once a week basis in the mountain biking tails of Elings Park, in Santa Barbara. Every time we passed I thought: maybe next time I’ll say hi. Then I hurt my foot and didn’t run for 8 months, and since returning have yet to see him again.
Oh where did he go?! Is he just sidelined for a bit? Gone forever? Moved away? Does he remember the nods we shared as we ran past each other, each wrapped in the thoughts of our own run?
Help me find him,
a loyal Citius reader
Dear Jerry Seinfeld,
the scene in Season 4 episode 12 where you are sprinting through an airport to make your flight and telling Elaine she runs too much like a girl is something I’ll never forget. Whether you’re enforcing heteronormative gender stereotypes or not, seeing you swing your arms almost entirely on a horizontal plane and high step Lainey’s ass in your all-white Reeboks–it was breathtaking. I couldn’t look away from your quivering brown leather jacket as you screamed “Get Your Knees Uppppp”. Why don’t more people run in leather?
Hi, I’m the coach who stumbled across your impromptu attempt to break into our track this morning. It was dark and our connection was short. Mainly you said “oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh” as you hurried to unstick your technical T-shirt from the wire tips of our fence. We were separated by only that thin layer of wire mesh, and the two padlocks clipped to it below, but I think our eyes met. I just wanted you to know: it’s a public track, the gate on the other side is usually unlocked.
We shared an evening in a foreign country. We were both there to race, and surreptitiously, by some predestined fate, were chosen to be each others’ roommate. You were so cute and friendly. I waited until you had left to use the shower, I couldn’t help myself from trying on your bathrobe. When I put my hand, heart thrumming, into the luxurious terrycloth pocket, it closed around a needle. I poked myself on it, ow. Dude, I reported you to USADA.
Me – dying a slow dry death of thirst after a completing a pre-work half marathon just for fun. My entire head felt like sand art. My tongue was shriveled like a dried apricot. I stumbled dehydratedly toward the closest bodega and allowed my eyes to glaze over in front of the gatorade freezer. So cold, so crisp. Icy Charge, that’s what I needed.
You- standing at the counter asking 200 hundred questions about the breakfast sandwiches they made there. Were they dairy free? Gluten free? Could they be sure there wasn’t any cross contamination? Can anyone ever be sure about anything?
I fainted behind you in line, but as my head hit the floor, the last thing I heard was your sweet, melodious voice wondering if there was any cashew milk for your coffee.
I was: the girl wearing NB’s new racing kit on my way to the bathroom before the race in Boston.
You: asked point blank if I was wearing underwear.
If you or someone you know has fallen in love while on the run, please do not hesitate to shoot me and email and maybe we can make this a weekly segment with Paul’s illustrations to go along with it. Email your Missed Connections on the Run to [email protected] with “Missed Connection” on the subject line.