G'day, mate ... or not

Daybreak from Red Rocks

I will confess up front that these pictures have very little to do with this post. Very little, but not nothing. This post is about running etiquette and I took these pictures while running. In any event, I think they are lovely and you might enjoy looking at them.

In most places I've lived I've figured out the great running enigma pretty quickly: when to acknowledge a fellow runner with a friendly "hello."



Dawn still breaking from Red Rocks

In some places the answer was always; in others never. In most places it sort of depended on the individual. In South Dakota, for instance, you always greeted a runner as a companion - even if you didn't know him, which was rare. What's more, you always threw in some pithy observation about the weather. It was wonderful, on cold, windy mornings to be out in the hostile elements and to hear a chorus of, "Good morning; it's a bit nippy today" coming out of the darkness ahead of you.

In the Falls Church suburb of Washington, D.C., no one ever passed me a greeting in almost six months. Eyes were averted, feet observed.



This fellow and I exchanged a nice greeting

There seem to be no clear rules about this sort of thing in New Zealand. Maybe there are, and they are just not shared with foreigners. My observations seem to hint at a sort of age divide. Youngsters - unless they are particularly bubbly or American - never acknowledge the presence of an older runner. Yet they seem to be positively profligate with their "hellos" to each other.

Older runners almost always give a nod and a mumbled greeting to one another. Maybe it's a survival thing. Walkers, on the other hand, are the most garrulous creatures. If you make too much eye contact they'll stop for a chat, even if you are a stranger determined to plow on.

Perhas it is just me. It's possible that I look so close to dropping when I'm running that other exercisers believe saying "Good day" to me commits them to performing CPR on me when I collapse. It could be why older folks usually greet me: they're looking for a similar commitment.

Red Rock at Dawn

On an annoying side note, but one that does have to do with these pictures, I missed the Orca again last weekend, and this time by a matter of minutes. By the time I came off Red Rocks after my long run, hundreds of cars had arrived in the parkig lot. There was some sort of Xterra trail run beginning. I felt very superior because I had already been out and about for two hours before these elite athletes even showed up. Turns out they were the smart ones. According to my friend Mike, a few minutes into the race, runners spotted Orcas. Right where I had been minutes before; in the waters where I had trained my camera. This truly is beginning to seem personal. My communion with the seal will have to do for now. I will find my Orca, though. I will.