Dearest Nass readers, I feel your pain. You, former bandies, who sit there with your thick glasses, Rubik’s Cube, and encyclopedic knowledge of Civil War battles. Even if you forced your nerdy self into hiding when you arrived at Princeton and are pretending you’ve always been cool, I know your past.

In training to run a marathon, I found myself facing the prospect of an 18-mile run. Being a freshman, I had no clue of where to go for long runs around Princeton. Upperclassmen informed me that the Princeton Towpath was “the place to go.” The towpath was “scenic and beautiful” and filled with other “encouraging”…