Dear Cranky Jogger Guy,

I'm not sure what you were rocking the stank eye about since this was very much a you thing, but maybe you're the type of person that's always the victim instead of someone who admits when you're wrong.

And odds are if you're the type that plays the victim, then you're reading this and immediately know this is about you. Further proving my point that it's a you problem.

But in case you're not sure if this is to you or not, let me paint the picture so it's more clear.

Google Maps / Alexandr Podvalny
Google Maps / Alexandr Podvalny

You were part of what seemed like a pretty large group of people split up into smaller groups running up the Route 28 Bypass near Pinkerton Academy. And even though there were these things called sidewalks next to you, y'all decided to run in the breakdown lane.

Which, cool, I get it. Because you have some people just walking or walking a pet on the sidewalk and it can be a pain to have to either run around them or stutter step and possibly wipe out. They were fine in the breakdown lane, because they were actually in the breakdown lane.

Then there was you. You weren't on the sidewalk. You weren't even in the breakdown lane.

You were running on the actual road. Ya know, that big strip of concrete where big, gas-or-electric-powered vehicles get from Point A to Point B.

I actually would've thought you'd get the hint when, noticing you running in the road from a decent distance away and not able to cross over the double yellows to give you, your Highness, all the room you (and probably your massive-headed ego) need, I came to a full stop in the middle of the road.

I figured maybe it'd click that you were jogging on a part of pavement you shouldn't be on and maybe you'd sashay back over to the breakdown lane with your buddies, but no dice. Because after all, it is the road you built, I'm sure.

A few seconds later, the other side of the road cleared up so I channeled my best British gentleman and drove on the left side of the road around you. Overexaggerated on my part? Sure.

But did my point to you get across? If the stank-eyed glare you gave me while I drove by you was any indication, then yes, my point was made.

And now, maybe you know this letter is about you. And maybe next time you'll fall in line with your friends and get the hell off the driving part of the road. Mmkay pumpkin?

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