I’m A Waver

I recently started receiving Runner’s World magazine (thanks mom, for that gift!) which I absolutely love. I used to get random copies here and there after signing up for a race, but now I have my very own subscription. I got the first one just a few weeks ago and devoured it in one sitting. Every single article was helpful, informative, entertaining, and inspiring. When I finished I was kind of bummed that it was over already. But then a couple weeks later the next issue arrived and all was well with the world. I now have the Feb. ’09 issue and I tried to change my tactic with this one. I attempted to take it slower, trying to read just one article a night to make it last a little longer, but I went cover-to-cover in three days.

This issue has a hilarious article that I truly appreciated reading. On one hand, this article could be considered “fluff” editorial. On the other, I salute editor-in-chief David Willey for printing it. The topic is one that, as the author points out, runners definitely think about and are aware of, but probably don’t talk about. It is the topic of being a waver or a nonwaver as a runner; the article is called “The Waver’s Dilemma.”

I am a waver. The author, Robert Sullivan, suggests that waving is anything from an actual wave to a finger lift to a head nod to any sort of verbal acknowledgment and I completely agree. I am all of those. The type of “wave” I give always depends on the situation: what side of the street the other person is on, if I’m passing face to face or coming up from behind, if they’re also running or walking or biking, if they’re in a vehicle, how old they are.

There are two things the article did not address, however, that I as a runner think about in waving situations. The first is that if I see a fellow runner approaching, no matter how much distance exists in between when we will pass, the thing I struggle with is staring. You’re supposed to look straight ahead, keep your eyes on the horizon. By default, you end up staring at the person running toward you. As a waver, it feels awkward to me not to stare at someone I’m running toward. Not looking at them makes me feel rude, like I’m intentionally pretending that they aren’t there. To Sullivan’s point, the runner who does indeed pretend you are not there is likely a nonwaver. The worst part is when you can see the person (depending on how good your vision is; I’d say I’m good for around a quarter-mile visibility) for quite some time before you actually pass. As a waver, I spend that time trying to figure out if the person will acknowledge me so I can decide what kind of “wave” I will give them. Usually I mutter some sort of ‘hello’ and at the very least, offer a head nod. I’ve discovered my actual waves are reserved for people on the opposite side of the street and dog walkers. The best part about this whole process, for me at least, is that all the time I spend thinking about passing, waving, and whether or not I’ll be acknowledged is time I’m not spending thinking about running, which makes it go by a little quicker.

The second thing the article does not address, that I also struggle with are children. In the neighborhoods I run in there are lots of children. If I run first thing in the morning, kids are at the bus stop. If I run in the afternoon, kids are returning home from school. In the evening, they’re playing in the middle of the street (literally). For whatever reason, I have no idea how to acknowledge kids. I try to think about when I was their age and what I would have said, if anything, to a runner passing me. If they said hello, I’m sure I would have said hello. Then I think about how as a kid, I just wanted to be treated as an adult, which in this case would mean that I should “wave” to them. But then I think, they’re kids; they could care less who I am and what I’m doing so what difference does it make if I wave or not? Despite this mental “to wave or not to wave” battle when it comes to kids, I end up waving in one way or another more often than not.

Are you a waver? If not, I’m with Sullivan once again—please, nonwavers just give us some sort of sign.