There is a rule among runners that unfortunately not everyone respects. Maybe not everyone knows it, yet it is so civilized and beautiful and costs very little. The rule goes like this:
When two runners cross paths they say hello, even if they do not know each other.
Easy, huh?
Yet not many people respect it; on the contrary. We often cross paths, ignoring each other, each going our own way. Mind you: in itself there would be nothing wrong with that. It is perfectly normal not to greet strangers. But that of runners is a tribe, you have to say hello!
Having finished the pseudo-moralist rant, I would like to talk a bit about the categories of runners who do not salute, or at least the ones I have isolated.
The distracted
He’s too caught up in the race, maybe he’s in obvious respiratory distress and so saying goodbye to you is the least of his thoughts because he has others, he has the fine to pay, and he’s really breathing hard. Oh God the breathlessness, oh God he feels sick: help him!
The touchy
I use the feminine because this category is mostly occupied by women. It is those generally well-dressed runners without a drop of sweat to blemish their faces who run like relentless trains looking only ahead. You greet them as you would greet anyone and receive in return a laser gaze that just says, “Are you telling me? Are you hitting on me?” No, I just wanted to say hello but I speed up, just in case.
The grouse
He is male and the opposite of touchy. The rule as old as time is that a man who greets a stranger is trying, and the stranger who greets a man out of pure courtesy is his future wife, obviously only in his mind.
The good thing about the grouse, dear women, is that it is easy to recognize because it runs moving its head exactly like a rooster: it looks like a watchtower in hysterics. He looks in every direction two hundred times a second because he has to spot the one who has realized how charming and supple he is in running and has already fallen in love. Obviously only in his head.
We said it looks in every direction, right? Minus one: in front of him and in fact he often bumps into the umbilical, the category that follows.
The umbilical
The name says it: the umbilical runs looking at the navel. More specifically, his feet, because he is evidently most concerned that he will stumble or that some Northern witch’s spell will make the ground disappear under his feet. What makes him think this is not known but it is certain only that he does not look ahead. So if you greet him, he doesn’t see you and he doesn’t see who is there to greet. He is not bad, he is just very focused.
The “I am kind, but”
It’s a category I love and I really like to tease them-they are the ones who want to say hello but you always catch them at the worst time, you know it and you’re being a bastard. Like when they are doing their repeats at 2 min/km and are in obvious oxygen debt. You pass them as you’re going so relaxed that you’re even filing your nails, and you say hello to them with a smile, and they respond with the face of someone sitting on the toilet who is pushing. I adore you because you always try your best, and I am a darn, you are right.
The offended
It can be male or female and simply does not know the basic rule. If you say hello to him, he doesn’t respond but only looks at you offended as if to say, “How dare you, who knows you?” After the greeting (not reciprocated) he will usually speed up thinking you are a thief attempting a clumsy approach. At most it escapes your rudeness: greeting me, who you don’t even know me, how shameful. I just wanted to be nice brother, anyway bye.
There is only one exception to the greeting rule. You should not wave to those you overtake for two reasons: because you might give them a stroke and because it might be understood as a gesture of mockery, like “I’ve overtaken you and I’ll even wave bye-bye to you, Captain Slug!” It is not beautiful and runners do not have to be fast but beautiful, that is.
(Photo by Jonny Caspari on Unsplash)