Boasting joggers - quents

Warning: Spleen venting in progress

 Of all the sports about which people love to boast, there can be no more banal and irritating than the quent who boasts about the universally simple act of transporting your body from one designated position to another designated position at slightly faster speed than walking pace.
Firstly, may I wholeheartedly recognise and acknowledge the act of running for all its advantages. 1). This genetically coded system of human locomotion transports yourself and your belongings to a destination faster than walking, without the need for extrinsic assistance.
Shifting perspective, to the arena of sport and hobbies, I also recognise the benefits and satisfaction that one might derive from performing this activity for anything other than the aforementioned purpose of self transport. For some people, simply performing the act of running long distances fills them with complete and utter satisfaction.
But please stop short of this consideration that running is anything to boast about, or tell others that you do. Social media is chock full of people who post their latest personal best for the world to see. Clear and utterly bereft of any sense of irony or self criticism, these "posts" declare the owner's complete and utter self satisfaction with themselves. Perhaps it isn't "running" that is to blame. More, it is the catalyst by which the wankers reveal themselves to the world. Perhaps, on closer consideration, we ought to thank running for bringing these scum floating to the top of the sewage drain, so we can survey and avoid.
Nobody cares, to be honest, how far you ran today. Nobody is proud of you. Nobody respects you. Running is just a form of transport, and is, itself a component of sport, but not in itself a sport. By this I mean, apart from the geek next to you running faster or slower than you, there is no distraction, no opponent trying to knock you off your stride, no referee applying the rules. There are no rules, and no strategy that a 4 year old can't master in a weekend. There really is nothing to it. If you want to put yourself on the line and go running, then that is absolutely fine with me and the rest of the world. Indeed, if I see a person on the street having a jog, that's fine - good for you.
But in sport, bragging is not the done thing. In victory, it is polite, gentlemanly, ladylike and sportsmanlike, courteous and apt, to take satisfaction with humble modesty. The opposite, is the complete and utter wanker who runs around waing his hands in the air, as if to say "Nar na ni nar nar!" to all and sundry. You might aswell resort to type and shout "I'm the king of the castle and you're the dirty rascal" because you never really emerged from your 9th year of psychological development. You probably still have identity issues, as you never really created one for yourself. Indeed, you probably have an intense anal fixation, which is why running is the perfect hobby for you. It allows you to own the success, all by yourself, without having to share it with others.
Running is the realm of the selfish. Like (professional) tennis, snooker and golf, all sports that started out as social games - something to do on a summer's day or in a pub, with your mates, the introduction of competition has brought forth the anally retentive, who pursue personal success, amongst others doing the same.
For me, the team sports are universally more endearing. The fundamental difference being the victory or defeat are shared by the tribe. Victory resonates through the team, as defeat depresses all. As a social vehicle, team sports resonate strongly. Individual sports, hobbies and pursuits were never intended for such purposes. The conclusion is, that results are of no interest to anyone but the person involved.
In team sports, where sportsmanship remains integral, it is not acceptable to beat your chest when the battle is won. Far more class has the man, or woman, who consoles the loser, and says hard luck.
The solitary, lonely, and self-indulged individual runner (or golfer, or tenniser) misses out on this completely. Through social networks, these anal tosspots have been exposed for, ironically, their social ineptitudes. Look at me, I've done well.
Jesus christ, was your daddy looking the other way when you grew up? Short of mother's milk, or too much perhaps?
Wimbledon's latest news story is a plethora of "superstars" of the sport falling over, and "blaming" their lack of coordination on their surroundings. That's like a slow swimmer saying the water was too thick. Again, we hear these cocooned, developmentally-retarded creatures bleating like 7 year olds who lost at the school tombola.
And so in all individual sports, but at least they are professionals and have made it to a level resembling  impressive. If they publicised their success on social networks, they would be cannon fodder for such braggish arrogance.
Yet, for far less achievement, the proliferation of "look-at-me-in-my-running-vest" wankers grows and grows, without shame, without humility, and without any sense of the fact that the only words coming out of viewers' mouths, beggin with "F" and "W" and are spat forth qucikly and in immediate succession.

And I didn't even mention cyclists.....