Fear of Elderly Male Runners

WBUR Maybe it wasn't this crowded. 

Running in Early 2020

Normally, I don't run Saturdays and I most certainly don't run in Griffith Park. Like the Rose Bowl, the park's trails are alive with runners, almost all of whom are faster than I. One also encounters a fair number of runner/dog walkers.

Gerontophobia

Alamy There was a dog, too, and no track. Just read the copy

Leading a little mutt on a leash, this chick in her thirties zipped past me. Fine. I'm used to it. A few hundred yards ahead, she slows and allows her mutt to nose around the leaves on the side of the trail. I continue on pace. But as I near her location, she tugs the dog by the leash. "Come on." Off she goes at a good clip. Whatever. I continue on pace. Rounding a curve, I spot her again, letting the mutt sniff away near a telephone pole. This time I ran past her. Behind me I hear, "Come On." Yanking the dog along, she speeds up to pass me. This time the woman burned some calories. At one point, she turned around and checked the distance between us. Then I lost sight of her.

When young male runners find themselves passed by young female runners they call it being "chicked," I believe there's a corollary. Gerontophobia is fear of the elderly. From my observations, I suspect certain young women detest being passed by older men or "fossiled." Having coined the phrase, I will now translate it with my college German:

 Befürchtungen Alte Männer

Brittanica A German scholar.

Nothing says dead serious like a German translation. So now you know two words and a phrase to describe the aforementioned condition:

1. Gerontophobia - far too formal.
2. Fossiled - Just the right touch of breezy American slang.
3. Befürchtungen Alte Männer - Only if you enjoy being a snotty show-off.

Choose whatever you will, but I suspect such a phobia may've been in play on this chilly morning.

Black Days in 2018

Without creating a link web that no one ever follows, 2018 was a brutal year for my physical fitness. In toting up my 2019 mileage, I noticed I didn't really start fully running until July. (That means running my training distance with zero miles walking.) Curious, I checked my stats for '18. In June, I injured my good right leg—not the benighted left leg—climbing over a construction fence. And that was it. Save for a brief half-mile, I did not run again for six months. And I did not resume where I left off for over a year. No wonder I weighed 271 pounds.

More news on a possible marathon coming soon. Soon. Oh, so very soon. Did I tease it enough? SEO, SEO, click, link, SEO.