In case You need a specific instantiation of the source of my scorned-lover feelings toward Warsaw.

Today I ran in the annual Nike Run Warsaw 10K. I've been running in this race for the past 7 years or however long it has been going on. Every year, as I run by people standing on the sidewalk and gaping at the thousands of passing runners, I cheer for us. I clap and yell, I hoot. I shout thanks those who respond in some way -- by clapping or cheering. I am pleased when this happens. Most of the time they just sort of stare at me blankly. Even those spectators who are not there by accident (i.e., they have a sign that says "GO MAMA!!", and aren't standing at a bus stop wondering when this goddamn river of runners will dry up and the bus will finally come) do not seem to consider that they *could* cheer on more than just their single runner out of 10,000. I mean, geez. Are the rest of us invisible? Would we not appreciate Your love? Would it not give us strength? Would it cost You too much to give?

So I'm running along, at my near-snail's pace, cheering for myself and others, and I wonder how fast I would be running if I weren't expending energy on cheering. Energy it would be nice to be ABSORBING from the crowd, rather than EMITTING it towards them.

At kilometer 3 my yells are met with a response from another runner. "JASIA?! I *knew* I would be able to identify You! There might be 10,000 people here but I *knew* that only You would be thanking the spectators for being here!" Yes, I'm that predictable. And, sadly, so are the people surrounding me.

Eight years I've been doing this, as a runner and as a spectator, at various races in Warsaw. Agitating the crowd. Trying to model supportive behavior. Expressing that I'm *enjoying* myself, which no one else appears to be.

Has my effort made any kind of impact? No.

I think, during these races, surrounded by thousands of my cityfolk, "am I really the only one who WANTS to be here with the rest of You? The only one glad to be sharing these moments? With You, fellow Varsovians? With Warsaw itself?" What are they all doing here, in that case? Is each of these people here for themselves alone? Not even a little for the rest of us?

Fine. Well. Maybe I don't want to be here either, in that case.

The kicker: as I walk home, still in my running gear, with my medal dangling from my neck, an old man passes me and says, "Pedały biegają i nie ma jak dojechać!"