I am, I may as well admit, an inveterate listmaker. Throw me into any situation and I shall find a way to distil it into a bulleted list. The act of making lists is calming; therapeutic, even. It gives you the illusion of control, the promise of clarity. It instils order in your life and best of all, it generates - with minimal effort - a sense of accomplishment.
My notoriety as a maker of lists had spread far and wide through my office. I was known to stride in every morning with a smile on my lips and a glint in my eye. I would make a cup of coffee, sit at my desk, and while taking small sips of the vile concoction that is Nescafé mixed with hot water, consult my taskboook. (The taskbook was a pocket diary dedicated solely to the listing of to-dos. Only amateurs make to-do lists in their regular notebooks). I would consult the previous day’s list - unblemished by any signs indicating completion - copy it out verbatim and add a few additional items. Then, the quantum of unfinished work having been brought into sharp focus, I would spend the rest of the day refining the draft of my resignation letter.
Nowadays, my to-do lists are briefer, rarely exceeding two lines. Item #1: Write something. Item #2: Get the damn thing published. Occasionally I throw in ‘Stare at a blank screen’ because it is healthy to complete at least one of the tasks you’ve assigned to yourself.
Evolving out of my love for lists is my tendency to taxonomize. I have always found classifying humans into attributes-based groups, to be the easiest way to make sense of society.
Over a decade ago, I had written about the patterns of behaviour exhibited by the different types of people one may encounter in a gym. (I must warn you that I cringed multiple times as I re-read it now. I should hope my writing has improved because it could hardly get worse.)
More recently, I’d categorised the deviants who drive on our streets.
It was only a matter of time before I applied my taxonomic abilities to a community I have been a part of for many years now: runners.
Ironically, not running is what made this study of runners possible.
While running, I have little time for contemplation - I am far too busy cursing myself for starting and coaxing myself to the finish. But over the past few weeks, I have been going for walks under medical instructions, and this has triggered a shift in perspective. Where before I would pant and grimace on my runs, oblivious to my environs and blind to everything but the asphalt before me, I can now amble at a leisurely pace and observe the variety of runners who populate our roads. And these runners come in many shades:
The Miserables: An overwhelming majority of those who have made the mistake of taking up running as a hobby, fall in this category. Suffering is writ large on their faces as they motor along: some fast, some slow, all in pain. Ask them why they run and they will respond with some version of the standard clichés: “Lose weight”, “Get fitter” or “Feel energized”. But in their eyes, you will find a different story; in their eyes, you will find a pleading, a cry for help that will move you to intervention. You will place an arm around their shoulder and comfort them. You will tell them it is okay to not run, to sleep in, to just be. Life need not be so miserable. They will nod at you in relief, and you will feel warm and contented knowing you have saved a soul from damnation. The next morning, you will find that they woke up and went for a run. There is no helping some addicts.
The Insufferables: You cannot miss them. In a roiling sea of toiling humanity, they move with a preternatural elegance that is mesmeric and infuriating. Not a strand of hair out of place and no bead of perspiration in sight, they glide over the tarmac. You’d think they would have the decency to at least pretend to look like they’re making an effort, but no. They cheerily smile and wave at their fellow runners who are too exhausted to respond. Then - while running past a bunch of people struggling up an incline - they offer words of encouragement before disappearing into the distance. One wants to live a life of piety and peaceableness, but in the name of all that is good and holy, they do so tempt a man to violence.
The Knowledgeables: Of all the different groups, they are the only ones to have hacked running. You can identify them by their two defining characteristics: first, their running attire is impeccable; colour co-ordinated clothes, wristbands, headbands, zany shoes, bluetooth earphones, the works. Second, you will never see them running. They will walk, stand and sit, but never run. It is a genius move. Through the simple act of preparing to run without actually ever running, they are able to avoid the self-loathing that assails both those who run (and wish they didn’t) and those who don’t (but wish they did). They are - and I believe this is the greatest compliment one can receive - the quiet quitters of the running world.
There is another species of runners who are too few in number to merit a standalone category, but deserve a special mention purely on account of their gumption and brazenness. They are rare beings and you may go weeks without spotting them, but when you do get a sighting it is hard to ignore. I am, of course, referring to the Nudists. The ones who think nothing of running in public clad in little more than a tiny pair of shorts (and in Milind Soman’s case, sometimes, not even that). One cannot help but admire how comfortable they are in their own skin though one does wish there was lesser skin to admire. Live and let live, I suppose.
So there you have it. Whether you are a runner or merely an observer, this comprehensive taxonomy should help you make better sense of those running around you. A behaviourial aspect I have not touched upon in this study is the “herd running” versus the “lone wolf” syndrome. But let us leave that issue for another day.
Once again, a great read!
Rohan i will need to find better words and
newer ways to express my amazement at your writing skills. I can clearly sense that we have something super duper taking shape in the form of Mr. Banerjee as an Excellent WRITER. May you be ever blessed.