|Daybreak from Red Rocks|
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 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|
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|