There is this bizarre situation that occurs sometimes on trails. I can't quite finger it, but it does exist: The "non-nod"; aka, "I don't see you even though there are only 2 of us on the trail" moment.
This Saturday, I ran Temescal Cyn, and on Sunday, Will Rogers Park. Saturday was a lovely, hilly 2 hr, 45 mn run, and Sunday, a sweet, 90 mn dash before work (yes, on a Sunday - did I mention that I LOVE working in TV?). On both days, I encountered "non-nodders" and "non-hello-ers".
I tend to get out to remote trails on my runs, so when, after 30 minutes of pounding along alone, I come across someone else on the trail, I normally blurt out an enthusiastic "Hi!" as I approach fellow human beings marching along on their own, separate adventures. But, yet, on these specific trails, I'm usually met with a lack of eye contact and silence.
I suppose it's a strange sight, to see someone scrambling up a hill, covered in salt, gripping a water bottle or three, and huffing a, "Hey!". It's most likely off-putting. But seriously: A simple smile? A nod? Ummmm...a wink and a fart?
Nada, for the most part.
I loved my back-to-back long runs this weekend. I just hope the frowny dude I passed in the light blue Polo shirt, Dockers, and bluetooth cellphone earpiece had equally as much fun.
Saturday: App'x 17 hill miles.
Sunday: App'x 8 hilly miles