Dear person beeping your horn or yelling at me,
Yes, I know, running down down the street. Wearing... shorts! Oh, and yes, last time I checked I noticed I'm female too. There's something, well several things I want you to know.
I guarantee you my bare, stretch marked legs offend me far more than they could ever offend you. I spend more minutes, possibly hours of my week wondering when I became so blind to letting myself go, because opening my eyes to it has left me more ashamed of my love of red wine and lazy Sunday mornings than you will ever know.
I know that I am slow, but I am trying. The speed and distance of my runs is on a steady upward trajectory. Your input doesn't change that. And yes, yes even though it took me 2.5 hours to run 12 miles last week, I am in fact running a marathon in 8 weeks time.
Oddly, I also noticed I'm wearing shorts. Like the guy on the opposite pavement, that kid walking their dog, maybe you're wearing shorts beneath your steering wheel. It's too damn fucking hot for full length tights and I happen to like the pattern on these particular ones.
And despite the shorts, the fact it drips into my eyes also reminds me that I am sweating. That's because I'm working hard. No, I don't find it especially attractive either, especially when it dries on my skin and I realise I'm covered in salt crystals.
Mostly though, I want you to know you're a dick. I hope that if you have a wife, girlfriend, daughter, mother or sister you treat them with more respect than you're treating me right now. I certainly hope you support their goals and ambitions instead of needlessly contributing to the doubts, concerns and self criticism that comes with any challenges, as you have done to me, a complete stranger today.
Yours with the promise that your behaviour is not acceptable, mostly because you don't seem to have the same problem with any man doing the same,