By Gordon Wright
I was running in the hills above my house the other day, and it was lovely. Lovely, but lonely. I hadn’t seen a single person since I started my single-track loop, so I was in my default slouch, shuffling along slowly, until I rounded a bend and saw someone coming towards me.
Like every male who’s ever lived, I picked up my pace, squared my shoulders and put a bounce in my step, because evolutionarily, I was supposed to either fight this person to the death, or take them for my mate. That’s absurd, right? Surely we’ve evolved beyond that. Or have we?
It turned out that my fellow runner was a woman, and she was not squaring her shoulders and effecting a smart stride. She was edging way off towards the side of the trail. She did not respond to my “Hey there,” nor my wave. …