Dear Women Who Think You’re Faster Than Me:
Look, I’m a man. I’ve been running for a while now. I know a few things. And if you think you’re faster than I am, I’ve got news for you:
You are probably faster than me. In fact, statistically, if you ran in one of the last two marathons I did, there’s a very solid chance you finished with a faster time than I did. But I’m a man. And because I’m a man, I believe there are only two reasons you would have finished with a better time than me:
1. You run faster than me.
2. Math. You ran the same distance I did, in a shorter amount of time. Distance divided by time equals speed, so your speed was faster. I guess this is not so much a different reason than number one, just a more detailed explanation.
I have noticed that lots of women run faster than me on a regular basis—on race courses, on trails, in the park, through the airport. Also faster than me: other men, women who used to identify as men, men who used to identify as women, and non-binary people. And: women pushing jogging strollers, women who have started receiving Social Security checks, and women who have to stop at aid stations during ultramarathons to pump breast milk. They’re fast. And I seem to find them everywhere.
So if you’re a woman and you think you’re faster than me, there’s really only one thing for you to do: pass me.
Brendan Leonard’s new book, Bears Don’t Care About Your Problems: More Funny Shit in the Woods from Semi-Rad.com, is out now.