Instant community

What better time to write about the way running makes me feel physically and emotionally than when I'm just back from a run? So, yes, here I am writing with the sweat still glistening, the heart still thumping, and my mouth still achingly dry---it was a very hot day.

It was possibly the hottest day of the year in San Francisco today. My mouth was dry the whole way through, even with drinking water beforehand and hitting two water fountains along the route. So hot, that unlike most sunny afternoons in the Park, there were hardly any runners.

But, whether running on a blistery cold day or a scorching one, I find the runs with fewer people on the path make for closer company. Unlike the weekends, which overflow with a comforting crowd of tourists and weekend-sports buffs, the chill days bring out an odder crowd, no doubt including a sprinkling of fanatics.

Today for instance, on my return route, a man straight-out started waving at me in a friendly manner. It wasn't to flag me down or greet an acquaintance; it was just a common bond some runners occasionally feel with other runners who are otherwise total strangers.

You pass people in just a moment when you're running, so for practical reasons there would be little consequence if your spontaneous bout of camaraderie wasn't well received. But, I've never experienced that. Not that I go around waving at people as I run, like a beauty pageant contestant on an urgent errand.

As is more common, passing runners and I sometimes exchange encouraging smiles or nods of acknowledgment--gestures that seem to say: 'Have a good run!', 'Keep it up; Go team!', or just 'It's good to see someone else out here--because it's dismal out.' You'd never know it if you'd stayed inside, but--without any exaggeration--sometimes stepping out and stumbling upon a serendipitous, momentary community under that fog soup sky can make your day.

Yay, humanity. Now, speaking of 'being human'-- time for a shower.