I’ve been running now for 18 years. During runs, I’ve been taunted in just about every way imaginable. If I hear anything about Forest Gump again, I swear, I’ll start puking like Reagan in the Exorcist. Yesterday, I’m getting in my miles and someone shouts “Hey, you freak!” Okay, no biggie. Right? Well, I looked over at my taunter and see that his face is covered in tatoos. There’s so many that the patch of uncolored whiteness stands out like a portwine stain. I’m a freak? I’m an object of ridicule? Makes me wonder what kind of town I live in (which I wonder on a daily basis as it is). I’ve gotta get out of here.