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I live in what is categorized as a Small City, population about 75,000 people. It’s not quite a small enough town where I might feel like I should say hello to everyone I see on the multi-use path, but definitely not a big enough city where it would feel ridiculous and overwhelming to acknowledge every other runner I saw during my run.
We’ve lived here almost six years, and since we came from a bigger city where I relished my anonymity, I have never really said hi to anyone when I was out running, unless I recognized them. But for absolutely no reason a few weeks ago, I started to give everyone—other runners, I mean—a little wave as I passed going the other way. And: I liked it.
But was I really going to commit to waving to every other runner I encountered, forever? Certainly there were exceptions, which I started making almost immediately—specifically people running while wearing big noise-canceling headphones and not making any sort of eye contact with anyone. They are clearly presenting that they are not interested in human interaction, and I respect that. So, there was at least that exception. But where would I draw the line? Or lines?
I reached out to my friend Syd, who is one of the warmest, friendliest, most outgoing people I know, and has lived the majority of his life in the most densely populated city in the U.S. Syd is also a runner, and now splits his time running between Denver’s City Park and another large park in New York known as Central Park. Surely Syd just said hi to everyone when he was out running, right?
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That was more nuanced than I was expecting, but of course it made sense. I decided to conduct a poll on Instagram:
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More than 2,300 people responded, and lots of people (72 percent—almost three-quarters!) said they always waved at other runners. Two percent of people said they never waved, and 26 percent said “it depends” (which was the third choice that allowed you to explain/elaborate in the comments).
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Many people commented (thankfully!)—almost 300, in fact, and many of the comments were illuminating:
This was after several weeks of waving at other runners during my runs, and I started thinking, you know what, just like so many people who commented, I have my own sorts of rules about who I will wave at. I drew a chart:
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Many of the survey comments confirmed that a) of course, it’s way different for me, as a man, than it would be if I were a woman, b) the last thing I want to be in someone’s day is “that creepy guy who waved at me while I was running,” so I considered my waving technique, and:
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In the few weeks that I have been doing this little experiment, an interesting thing has happened three different times: I have gotten a high-five or a fist bump from someone running the other direction. In every instance, this has happened before I even lift my hand to wave at them. Once it was after I’d run up and down Mt. Sentinel and probably looked a bit tired in my running vest, and these two college-age guys who looked like they were just starting out on their run gave me a fist bump and some words of respectful encouragement as they passed. Another time it was a runner in his 30s or 40s, running about the same pace as me, and just reaching out silently. And then this past Monday, I dragged myself out in the heat of the afternoon somewhat begrudgingly, and in the final mile of my 3-mile run, I was chugging uphill as a very tattooed, very ripped, very younger-and-cooler-looking-than-me guy was running down the hill, and just as I was about to give him a wave, he reached out an open hand and said something like “Get it, brother” and we high-fived.
This all may be just coincidence, but I gotta say, a wave or a nod, or the occasional fist bump or high five kind of does make it feel, as one survey respondent put it, like we are all struggling together.
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