Running Etiquette (or What My Mind Wanders to Over the Course of 20 Miles)

Today was the first of the "Big Three"--that is, the looong three training miles before the marathon, which are, respectively, 20, 20, and 22 miles. 

I love to run, and make no secret about it. But let me tell you, that is a LONG way. There is no escaping the sore muscles, in aching butt and calf, no escaping the thirst, and irrational post-run hunger (no matter how much you eat or drink during the run itself), no escaping the utter fatigue that eventually will set in. 

And for me, especially when running alone, as I was for the majority of today, there is no escaping the odd paths my brain sometimes rambles down. While running, I somehow got onto the mental topic of running etiquette--or, at the very least, the differences in runners. 

The first, and already a hot topic (profiled in a recent Runner's World), is waving, or acknowledging in some way your fellow runner. The article I read last month basically grouped people into the wavers--and the nonwavers. Now, I sometimes wave, but not always. When I do wave, it's more like a low, one-handed hold slightly to the side of my body (always on the right), and near my stomach. This wave says, "Hi. How are you. Good job running, fellow runner." This wave, while acknowledging, and I would say, encouraging my fellow runners, does not invite conversation, but does invite a reciprocal wave--which I get about 75% of the time. 

My second version of waving is the "Good morning!" or "Nice Job!" verbally shouted (or muttered) while passing someone traveling in the opposite direction. This is also typically reciprocated, though again not always. 

What I discovered today was what I suspected--we all turn into nonwavers the more tired we get. About 14 miles in, I'd switched to a brief nod and "uh" as I passed fellow runners, and near 17-18, I started to duck my head, while trying to mentally suck the energy away from other runners and into myself. 

The second topic I spent some time reflecting on (I had time to reflect, as I crawled along sedately--negative splits, HA!) was to iPod, or not to iPod. An alarming number of runners wore iPods today. While I understand many people prefer to run to the tunes of their favorite musicians, it's not for me... partly because I don't think a beautiful spring day is the kind of day you need a distraction from. Treadmills? All about the iPod. 

On Thursday night, as I was about to leave work, a coworker somewhat randomly asked me what I thought about iPods. (Well, maybe not so random, as I'd spent the entire week gloating about our awesome Hyannis performance, to anyone who would listen, and to some who obviously didn't want to.) When I said they weren't for me, he said what I think is the #1 response from the pro-iPod'ers: "I just can't imagine not having one. I mean, I can't work out with out one." What I wanted to say (but didn't) was "Well, you have to become comfortable with being alone with yourself." 

The truth is that there is no hiding from yourself in running in silence, with only the smack-smack of your feet, the breeze on your face, the occasional car driving by, and the "uh" or "Good Morning" of another runner (see above) as your soundtrack. Your brain goes where it will, and settles on those things that are most present and forefront in it--be it work, upcoming event plans, health, a to-do list, or a sticky situation with a friend. For me, at least, running remains a catharsis of sorts--a place where everything slows down, and everything becomes clearer, a place where I can often find my true self, even if its a tired true self. 

I finished my run today content with my miles, and happy to feel no more bodily woes than the expected aches and fatigues that come with such a long distance, and relaxed after some much-needed time with myself. 

So I guess whatever each runner prefers is what they should have--be it iPod or no iPod, waving or not. The road rises up to meet all of us just the same--its how we each look at it, and treat it, that makes us unique.