Posted by Rebecca in Running

on Mar 12th, 2013 | 5 comments

In an effort to get rid of my food baby, I went for a run “with” Jason last week (“with” meaning we left the house at the same time, then I promptly waved goodbye at his back as he shoomed away). I’m heavier and slower than my lean-yet-nightmarishly-tanned version from last summer, but I tried to stay positive as I set out to conquer the hilly 6.5 mile loop.

My pace was slow but steady, and I settled into a decent groove, enjoying the crisp air that was warm enough to warrant running in a t-shirt, yet chilly enough so I wouldn’t overheat. I quickly zoned out into my “zen mode,” where I let the stresses of the day dissolve and let my thoughts wander to and from any number of topics. I used to run with my old iPod “Classic,” but after I left that bad boy on a plane, I got used to running without music and just let my inner monologue keep me company.

I trudged on, totally zonked out, and soon approached the Pagliacci on 10th and Miller. I was staring straight ahead down the sidewalk and wiping some sweat off my nose when I noticed someone standing off to the side. I’m not sure if he was waiting for a bus or getting ready to cross the street, but when he saw me his face lit up and he shot his hand up in the air. Confused, I focused on him and my brain, thinking this guy knew me, searched its reserves for a name. Who is this dude? Is he a TN Multisports teammate? Have I worked with him?

Brain: “Scanning for recognition…scanning…scanning…scanning…”

Me: “…well? Do I know him?”

Brain: “…scanning…”

Me: “Ugh, brain, you are the worst.”

Brain: “Don’t rush me! You’ve got a lot of useless shit in here. Do you really need to know the theme song to The Golden Girls?”

Me: “I don’t need your judgment. And I will not thank you for being a friend right now because you’re seriously letting me down here. How the hell we got through college is beyond me.”

Brain: “Whatever…anyway, yeahhhh, we don’t know this guy.”

After finally establishing I did not know this man who was standing on the sidewalk with his hand outstretched, I hesitated, not exactly comprehending what he wanted from me. My eyes flickered up to his hand, which he held rigid, and he exclaimed, “You rock!”

And then I realized that all this dude wanted was to high-five me because I was out running. I smiled, smacked his hand with mine, and shouted, “Thanks!” As I ran off, he called after me, “You’re doing great!” and I grinned all the way down the street.

Of course, as I replayed the scene back in my head, my warm fuzzies gave way to intense neurotic shame as I remembered one crucial detail:

I scratched my nose to wipe the sweat away, then I used that same hand to high-five him.

OH CRAP, HE THINKS I PICKED MY NOSE AND THEN WIPED IT ON HIS HAND!!!

HE IMMEDIATELY REGRETTED OFFERING ME THAT HIGH-FIVE, I KNOW IT

I AM A DISGUSTING HUMAN BEING!!!

I MUST SEQUESTER MYSELF IN MY HOME AND NEVER RUN OUTSIDE AGAIN OUT OF SHAMEEEEEEE

And then I couldn’t stop thinking about this scene:

So for the remainder of my run, my emotions alternated between feeling happy over a stranger’s random act of awesomeness and embarrassed by the potentially misunderstood nose itch. But ultimately, my happiness edged out over the shame (barely), so I wanted to author an open letter to the Guy Standing in Front of the Pagliacci on 10th:

Dear Guy Standing in Front of the Pagliacci on 10th,

A few things:

You’re a handsome dude. I have an awesome boyfriend though, so I shall not be hitting that any time soon (well, anything other than the outstretched hand). Your spontaneous decision to high-five me during what was otherwise a mundane run really made my day, especially since I’ve been feeling slow, chunky, and unmotivated lately. The world needs more people like you in it. Thank you. Also, that was totally a nose itch and not a snot rocket or a booger hunt. Please believe me. Admittedly, I’ve done much grosser things in front of people (like peeing through my tri shorts or accidentally shooting snot rockets onto teammates), but I own up to these disgusting acts, damnit. Anyway, thanks again. You’re a cool guy, and I hope good karma finds its way back to you soon.

Cordially,

This Mediocre Athlete