When a runner greets a runner.

Most good things in life begin with a smile…

pides’s celebrated run from Marathon to Athens in 490 B.C. When arriving in

Athens, he fell dead at the feet of his emperor—but not before reporting that the emperor’s forces had defeated the Persian army at Marathon. It was obvious that Pheidippides died from overexertion. A distance of 26.2 miles was no easier then than it is today. There is speculation, however, that more was involved.

Evidence has emerged indicating that as Pheidippides approached the outskirts of Athens, running through an area mostly devoid of vegetation and littered with large boulders, he encountered a goat herder. Joyful and exuberant, the young messenger shouted “Niki, niki,” (Victory, victory), but the goat herder ignored him. With goats in tow, the old herder trudged on. He didn’t even look up. Scholars now think that Pheidippides’s sudden death came not only from physical exertion but also from the disappointing encounter with the grumpy old goat herder. Rejection leads to dejection. Pheidippides was in a weakened condition. It may have been just enough, they say, to have pushed him over the edge.

About a year ago, while running my regular route along the side of a frontage road shaded by a lovely stand of cottonwoods and eucalyptus, I spotted another runner heading my way. It was a rare occurrence at this location. As we drew close, I could see that it was a blonde woman in baggy sweats wearing a dirty stocking cap pulled below her eyebrows. We passed within two feet. I smiled, put my hand up, and said, “Good morning.” It was then that I realized how Pheidippides felt when he was ignored by the goat herder some 2,499 years ago. She completely ignored me.

During the next few months, I ran into this strange woman at least 30 times. For a couple of weeks, I continued to greet her. She continued to ignore me. Every time I saw her approaching, I wanted to cross the narrow, two-lane highway and hide in the bushes, but traffic was always heavy at that time of the morning. Every time we passed, I glued my eyes to her just to make sure that she didn’t take a peek. She never did. Her eyes were locked straight ahead. I was invisible.

[ known, but of some interest, is fresh news regarding the story of PheidipMichael Hughes

What a doggone nuisance

I wondered whether she might be a deaf mute until one day I spotted her walking my way accompanied by a large man with an English bulldog leashed to his wrist. As I came upon them, I could hear her. From her tone, she was not happy with the large man. And the bulldog was not happy to see me. And the large man was not happy when he was jerked from his socks at the bulldog’s sudden lunge at me. And I was not happy when my adrenal gland released its magic potion and I was propelled straight up 10 feet. The woman walked on. She didn’t even glance back.

A few mornings later, as she ran toward me, I contemplated stopping her but—in the nick of time—saw the bulldog pulling her large male friend toward us about 100 yards down the road on the other side. The woman disappeared as abruptly as she had appeared. Her behavior will always be a mystery to me. She made an impression, though. If not for the experience with her, I might never have come upon “the rule.”

So it was on my Sunday-morning runs along the Southern California coast at Carlsbad that I started taking notes. I made an informal survey. Fewer than 20 percent of the runners I encountered offered any kind of greeting. Almost 40 percent ignored any greeting that I gave.

As in the case of Pheidippides, an ignored greeting can be more than an annoyance. And I was definitely annoyed when my cheerful “Good morning” was ignored. Many times, to get even, I would snub the next runner. That, of course— as luck would have it—would be one of the 1-in-5 my statistics revealed was a happy runner who gave warm greetings. I was trapped. On the one hand, I was afraid that my greeting would be ignored. On the other hand, I didn’t want to take a chance on snubbing the 1-in-5 who offered a warm greeting.

There seemed no way to win at this greeting business until I discovered the tule.

Once bitten, twice shy. One runner ignores another. The other despairs and in retribution ignores the next. A broken shoestring leads to a lost boot leads to a lost toe leads to a lost . . . well, you get the idea. Taken to the extreme, runners will never speak or raise a hand. They will never even look at each other. My informal survey indicates that this is the direction we are heading. As a fog rolls in and spreads gloom over the coast, the lack of warm greetings between runners spreads a different kind of gloom—witness Pheidippides. I think we need to change the direction.

Almost 2,500 years have passed since the battle at Marathon and Pheidippides’s disheartening experience with the old goat herder. And still, uninhibited warm greetings between runners, at least along the Carlsbad coast, are seldom heard. If in 2,499 years we have not learned how to extend a warm and cheerful greeting, then certainly we do need a rule.

Pheidippides had to deal only with a goat herder. Modern runners contend with more. Before discussing the rule for greeting each other, there are peripheral issues. We must also establish protocols for greeting related classes. For example, Iregularly encounter skateboarders, pedestrians, bicyclers, in-line skaters, antique cars cruising for attention, and even an occasional Segway. And you may think of some that I have overlooked. Greetings for these special classes fall under “special rules.” The idea of special rules is to keep everyone happy and insure your safety.

Special rules

Antique cars: When we encounter an antique car, special rules would like us to give a thumbs up. The drivers love that. They will bounce up and down in their seats. Safety note: If you have never seen an approaching antique car—or, for that matter, any approaching car—you are in danger of being run over. You are on the wrong side of the street.

Skateboarders: Special rules want us to ignore these ruffians. Safety note: Be wary of making a sour face; it could be viewed as a disrespectful sneer. Many skateboarders talk through their nose and have calluses on their knuckles.

Pedestrians: Sometimes there is no alternative but to mount the sidewalk into a crowd of dogs, mothers with baby strollers, old people cursing and waving their canes, and young children who don’t smell so good. Safety note: Pedestrians who spot you coming will move right or left. Special rules recommend that we aim in the same direction they move. Pedestrians will change their mind over 50 percent of the time and at the last minute move the other way. For those who do not move as expected and make a collision unavoidable, we want to try to land on top of the pedestrian to avoid injury to ourselves or to avoid ending up with our face in dog feces.

If an angry mob surrounds the scene, lie still and hold your ankle as if it is either broken or strained. Do not define the injury precisely. This ambiguity will lead to great speculation and lively discourse within the members of the mob. They may get caught up trying to diagnose your injury. An argument could ensue, and they may forget why they were angry with you in the first place. If that doesn’t work and further deception is required, special rules suggest you mention that your wife is pregnant and quite ill (whether she really is or not, or whether you even have a wife or not). If that doesn’t work—get up and run like hell.

In-line skaters: These are wannabe runners with flat feet and corns. They are anxious to offer a greeting. Special rules tolerate a cursory nod to suffer their impertinence. Safety note: In-line skaters’ arms swing wide and can strike a passing runner in inappropriate places. If you receive such a blow and are clocking mile splits, stop your watch quickly. Your eyes are going to well up, and you will not be able to see the stop button. You will be on the ground for a while.

Segways: The name of this vehicle is a play on the word “segue,” as in transitioning smoothly from riding on the machine to flying through the air after the machine suddenly goes in reverse at top speed (12.5 miles per hour) because of an onboard

a person fly by at shoulder height, look up quickly. You will see that a Segway has crashed a short distance ahead. Approximately three seconds later, you will hear a loud thud from behind. Safety note: Special rules urge that you return to offer first aid only if you can contain your laughter; otherwise, you are advised not to look around and to immediately go anaerobic. If you hear heavy, hoarse breathing from behind, pick up the pace. The outraged Segway rider is ambulatory. Bicyclers—peloton and beyond: These folks are recognized by their funny hats and colorful, full-torso tights. They approach in ones, twos, and many times in large groups called pelotons. Peloton is a French word meaning squad or platoon. Many are also runners and as such deserve our highest respect and cordiality. Female riders are greeted with a wink, males with a nod—and a bicycle for two with one rider of each sex gets a wink and a nod. Safety note: When you greet two girls riding a bicycle for two, never wink both eyes simultaneously when

approaching a curb. Be aware, too. It is likely that as a peloton approaches, the lead rider will point to his right. This means that he wants you to go to your left. The peloton riders will go to your right—their left. If you become confused and they run over you, it’s OK. The law is on your side. Vehicular codes give the right of way to the slowest. Be comforted, too, that even with as few as three riders in the peloton, one will be a lawyer. As you lie stunned and bleeding on the asphalt, he will be the first to approach. He will utter two to four words of sympathy and hand you 20 or so sheets of paper to sign. He will be your advocate. On trial day, he will sputter and spit. He will strut and stomp around the courtroom in his Gucci loafers. The cords in his throat will bulge and his ears will turn red as he condemns the despicable and gross negligence of the peloton leader, his father, for deliberately giving you an incorrect hand signal.

Signs of civilization

Throughout history, greetings have played a role in mankind’s development. Polite, dignified greetings fuel our desire to achieve the greater good and propel us to higher levels of sophistication. The handshake, the salute, the kiss on each cheek, the hug, the thumbs up, the wink and the nod, the high five, the fist bump, bumping elbows and hips, banging foreheads, slamming bodies together as we jump toward each other, bumping rear ends, mooning from the first row in a movie before the lights go down—are these not what separate us from the beasts?

It is obvious that we enjoy being greeted. The greeting-card industry, led by American Greetings Corporation and Hallmark, rings up over $7.5 billion annually from our desire to greet one another and recognize important events. But I ask: is it easier to get in the car, drive to a store, and spend five minutes looking for a card than it is to simply raise our hand and say “Good morning” to a fellow runner on a beautiful morning, in a beautiful place, while doing one of the things we love the most in the world?

We know, too, of some well-known greetings. At the gate of the late Frank Sinatra’s home in Palm Springs, the greeting above the buzzer said, “If you ring this buzzer, you damn well better have a good reason.” Nicky Hilton was known for “Greetings, welcome to Hilton Hotels—and don’t forget to tuck the curtain inside the tub when you take a shower.”

The best-known greeting, though, was perhaps the one given by Henry Stanley. After searching the interior of Africa for eight months, he found Dr. David Livingstone, a celebrated explorer and missionary who in 1866 went to Africa in search of the source of the Nile and was never heard from again. On November 10, 1871, Stanley found Dr. Livingstone at a small, remote village. Livingstone walked up to Stanley, and Stanley uttered one of the most famous greetings of all time. “Dr. Livingstone, I presume.”

Like ships at sea

From Henry Ward Beecher: “As ships meet at sea a moment together, when words of greeting must be spoken, and then away upon the deep, so men meet in this world; and I think we should cross no man’s path without hailing him.”

Good manners, if nothing else, dictate that when we come upon another runner, a greeting should be offered—a wave of the hand and a smile, at least. Why not? A greeting is a gift you can bestow at no cost. It can convey incalculable value. If at first, or on occasion, your smile and hearty “Good morning” are ignored— soldier on. Other runners are on the way. You will get another chance.

I gave up being paranoid or worrying that if I gave a greeting that was ignored, I would, out of spite, not greet the next runner. I decided that there is only one rule, and that is to greet everyone. If I am ignored, I simply put that one in the trash can and soldier on. I feel fortunate to have discovered the rule. It has rewarded me in many ways.

» Michael Hughes

Several weeks ago, during a Sunday run along the Carlsbad coast, while I was approaching a bend in the road obscured by hibiscus bushes, a tall, lanky runner swept around the bend heading toward me. He was maybe 100 yards away. As he neared, my attention was drawn to his peculiar appearance. He had dark, swarthy skin. He looked too old to move so well. He was a unit in poetic motion: elbows close to his side, hips thrust forward, running erect, each foot strike a quick tap on the asphalt. I noticed, too, that his running shoes were dirty and tattered. They looked almost like sandals. His running clothes appeared of standard issue but were soiled and frayed. For an instant, I thought he might be a homeless person but knew there was no homeless person of this world who could run like that. In four years of running almost every Sunday on the Carlsbad coast, I had never seen him before, and I’ve never seen him since—nor do I expect to.

As the distance between us narrowed, he looked down, then glanced up. When our eyes met, he immediately looked down again. I noticed splotches on his legs and that the skin covering his legs looked like parchment. There was a wide scar on his neck extending to his upper cheek that had, obviously, not been professionally treated at the time of the accident. He seemed cautious at my approach— apprehensive. From about 40 feet, my eyes stayed on him. Every time he looked up and encountered my stare, he averted his eyes and his chin dropped. At about 10 feet, I picked up my hand, smiled, and said, “Good morning.”

At that, his eyebrows arched. He gave an unsure smile. As we passed, shoulder to shoulder, he said something. I thought that I caught it but wasn’t sure because of his heavy accent. I wanted to turn and catch him. I wanted to verify that he said what I thought he said. But most of all, I wanted to meet him. He was too fast, though. There was no chance I could run him down. As I continued for a few more feet, I realized that I had heard his words clearly. There was no doubt what he said to me.

He had said “Thank you.” Pop

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