Last night I was running a fartlek
(just typing the word makes me giggle) run. I was running as fast as I could to the end of the block. Coming towards me on the path, were a group of young people, plugged in with their noses in their phones. I realised they weren’t going to see me so I started yelling and clapping my hands as I raced toward them.
They didn’t look up. I yelled louder. I was going to reach them in seconds. It was at this moment I knew I had two choices. I could either slow down and ruin my interval or I could just run straight through them. I chose to complete the interval.
I don’t think anyone got hurt, but to be honest, I didn’t look back to check.
The Making of Merilyn 
And here I thought it was another poo story! I can well imagine you in this scenario. Out of curiosity, did you yell in English or Japanese? I was being yelled at once in Mali but I didn’t understand so assumed (wrongly) that it wasn’t about or at me. Then I slipped off an unstable embankment which I would have realised had I understood the language and therefore could have avoided everybody laughing at the silly white girl.
Ahhhh! A classic African experience!