Frank Shorter is a Boulder icon. He has been cast in bronze and plunked at the entrance to Folsom field at the university. A painting of him graces the side of a wall on the corner of Broadway and Pine streets downtown. He's an Olympic champion, blah blah blah. Ooooh, Frank Shorter.
I was at the gym last week, doing my elliptical cardio, kinda watching CNN and kinda watching the women's Olympic track qualifiers, when I hear this loud voice boom, "Thank GOD they look like women again!"
What the fuck? My mouth dropped open. Really, my jaw hit the floor and I looked up in time to see a poor kid arranging the magazines on the rack. He looked at me, shrugged his shoulders to his ears and turned red like a beet. He walked up and said, "Do you think he knows he was so loud?" I said yes, I did, and what an asshole.
I'd seen this loudmouth before but couldn't put my finger on where. Then it hit me: it had to be Frank. I googled him, and sure enough, it is. Frank Shorter, venerated Olympian, king of all runners. Who is glad that women athletes look like women again. Because really, appearance is so much more important than how strong, fast, and healthy they are.
To you, Frank, as we head into the summer Olympics, I say only this: please shut the fuck up.
