An Open Letter to Tom Hanks from every runner since 1994.

Dear Mr Hanks,

I write this reluctantly, because I’m somewhat of an admirer of your work.

Much of my childhood was spent enjoying the films you starred in, and whilst a pre-pubescent me didn’t quite get the intricacies of ‘Splash’, my immature other side enjoyed your earlier work with ‘Turner and Hooch’, and perhaps most notably ‘Big’ (what kid didn’t want to dance on a giant keyboard, design toys for production, and get into similar shenanigans?).

Top work also with ‘Philadelphia’, ‘Toy Story’, ‘Castaway’, and whilst not too many people appreciated the intricacies of ‘Joe versus the Volcano’, I kinda dug the semiotics and colour symbolism scattered throughout.

Certainly with the above point in mind I’m even willing to give you a hall pass for your work in ‘Sleepless in Seattle’, ‘The Lady Killers’, ‘The Davinci Code’, and ‘The Polar Express’…I haven’t seen too much of ‘Cloud Atlas’ albeit a short 5 minutes on a long haul flight at god-knows-what-hour (with no audio) however from the amount I saw, I suspect that may not be your finest work either.

...Regardless, I’m a runner, and more to the point, there’s certainly one thing I can never forgive you for.

(I think you know where this is going.)

I’ve just returned from my regular Sunday run and for the umpteenth-million time I’ve had those fateful words bellowed out the window of a car from yet ANOTHER idiot,

“Ruuuunn  Forrest Ruuuunnn!!!!!!”

Now before I get too far ahead of myself, I do realise that you did not ACTUALLY write or direct those memorable words, or those particular scenes, but as the face and figurehead of this juggernaut nightmare you are the most obvious buck to cast my vicious scorn-arrows towards. 

Director Robert Zemeckis and writers Eric Roth and Winston Groom, you will both have your times, most probably when a much more withered and weary pensioner version of me types the next (in a likely series) of angry letters to the ‘world that has wronged me’.

For the time being, Hanks….you’re my punching bag….deal with it.

So without further ado; My direct question to you Mr Hanks is this;

Why oh why couldn’t you have improvised just this once? Why couldn't you have taken matters into your own hands and broken character just the slightest when those actors (playing bullies) chased your leg-brace bound, simpleton character of ‘Forrest Gump’. 

When ‘Jenny’ shouted those fateful words, could you not have replied;

“Shout Jenny Shout!” or
“Great suggestion Captain Obvious!!!! What else would I do?!!”

Instead, you played true to the role, stammered something unintelligible and ran, cursing every weekend runner and road-bound trainer to ridicule for the next 19 years (and counting).

Thanks buddy. Thanks a tonne. 

Granted, for your professionalism you were awarded an Academy Award…but at what cost I ask? What cost?!!!

Now we runners are left bewildered at the longevity of this movie, particularly in the eyes of those who draw inspiration to torment every innocent jogger with this jibe. 

And why? To irk us somehow? 

A large percentage of us certainly do not look like Forrest! Even less have the name ‘Forrest’…I suspect. 

It can’t be a case of mistaken identity, and it never feels like a helpful bit of encouragement. 

It really is just confusing.

The worst part of it all is that 99% of the time the words are shouted from cars with no discernible make or model (because the parts seem to come from many) and by people so unfit that the mere fact that they are out on the road in the first place is either to head to the hospital to have their arteries flushed, or the nearest deep-fried burger joint to ingest more calories.

I just don’t get it.

Are they jealous of the fitness we have? The fresh air we breathe? The wonderful communities that we’re part of?

Perhaps these questions will never be answered; I don’t really expect it to, least of all by you. Like I said, today you’re my punching bag Mr Hanks, nothing more. 

Which leaves us runner’s with the only option left; to savour those rare, but precious moments of actual cheers of encouragement, and our own successes. 

We’ll enjoy our runs alone, traversing the world with our own unique view, to run in the sunshine, dusk, dawn and rain and to take in the glories un-noticed by the ignorant and all-consumed.

We may ‘Run Forrest Run’, but it’s what we see, hear, smell and breathe that matters more.

And with this in mind I need to go…I have to log my kilometres, and afterwards, I have a very sternly worded request to write to the composer of ‘Chariots of Fire’.

Thank you for hearing my concerns,

(Please do not consider a request for a Forrest sequel)

Sincerely

Clay Dawson

p.s. Everyone else….keep running and tune out the haters! We (us other runners) love you still!

p.p.s Now let's all get some ice-cream!