Why I stopped saying hello to women and fat joggers

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When I started riding motorcycles over twenty years ago, a friend introduced me to the norms, rules, and customs of the motorcycle industry. Among other things, these include greeting rules: as a motorcyclist, you can only greet people like you. Drivers of small 125 motorcycles, Harleys or scooters will be ignored. Harleys, on the other hand, only greet their own kind. I wonder how the car drivers handled it? Following the order of motorized two-wheelers, they parked their cars at the bottom of the underground parking lot.

But who would have thought that greetings between joggers could be more complicated? Less official, but equally treacherous?

Yes, I jog. I'm not proud to say this. Rather, it is a shameful admission. For years I was one of those people who laughed at the joggers, standing on the balcony, beer in hand, watching with pity as the prosimians struggled past at my feet. Aerobic exercise. puff. I don't need it.

Until the day comes when I need it. Much needed.

I will be 47 years old in a few days. As we all know, age is no protection against stupidity: I still believe I can play with people under 30. Of course, I was lying to myself, but after a few seasons of living under the radar, I at least realized that I had to change something: I had to get healthier.

So I secretly ordered jogging shoes and entered uncharted territory. Alone. I had no friends to tell me what to do and what not to do. I got to experience this first hand.

In my absolute jogging naivety, I said hello to all my competitors at the start of my lap. Why? I have no idea. But that's fine. Maybe my guilt drove me to do this, or maybe I wanted to repent and apologize for making fun of joggers for so many years.

I soon realized that my over-the-top greeting was completely wrong – the first lesson immediately followed: a jogger was so frightened by my gesture that he almost fell to the floor.

Looking back, I have to admit that I would have expected that a narrow, dark motorway underpass and a water channel would not be the right place to greet a woman running past with jerky gestures.

Lessons learned. Women jogging are no longer welcome. Especially since the scope of interpretation for mediocre greetings – and I foolishly thought of this too – is anyway too large and therefore obsolete. Because this is where the shoe tightens.

We live in an age where communicators first anticipate, then reflect on all possible interpretations of a message, and then refine their delivery, nipping all unwanted interpretations in the bud. Or to put it another way: it’s an over-reflective communication spasm. This in itself is not a bad thing. There is nothing wrong with being considerate. But it also prevents it.

This is why I no longer say hello to fat joggers.

So many possible readings go something like this: “Well done, Specky. Finally, you're doing something for your form. Yay!”

I don't want to express pity. I don't want to sound arrogant either. I wouldn't put myself above a fat jogger, nor would I want them to think I would. Here's the crux of the matter: I don't know how to prevent my greeting from being read this way.

There's not a lot of room… maybe for complex facial expressions. But when I jog, forgive me, my facial expression disappears. From 9km/h I looked like the drooling Great Dane from Scott and Hooch. No. sorry. The only solution is the final ratio: no greetings.

Now you can certainly say that greeting people while jogging is basically a stupid idea.

One can. But you couldn't be more wrong.

Because I often receive extremely friendly greetings. When puffy eyes meet for a split second and both men smile desperately, brief moments of magic occur when two people reveal their vulnerability in milliseconds. You understand each other. Just like people can understand each other only when they are in trouble. We are going through the same thing right now and are in the same boat, which for most people is quite uncomfortable. This connects you and excites you for a moment before giving way to the delightful solitude that many joggers love.

Moments like this are small but subtle rays of hope on a gloomy autumn day – and in terms of quality, they don’t compare to any other motorcycle greeting. Sometimes these moments resonate a little longer.

For example, I only occasionally remember my last run, but I still vividly remember the guy in the blue tracksuit (with long pants on, oh my god, why?). We met twice. We all had to do our best to smile on the way back. Maybe his fun comes from my Edgar Davis sports glasses… I say Edgar Davis. My kids call me “Minion.”

It doesn't matter. It would be nice to greet each other while jogging.

allergy! This is an accusation I've never heard before, but maybe it's because I'm overthinking it. Have I gone too far?

Ha! It’s still far away! Because I'm not alone. This is a group phenomenon.

Why do I know this?

My weight of nearly 100 kilograms has dropped significantly, but with a BMI of 26, I am still in the overweight category. When an expert jogger crosses my path, he's a leek in running socks and energy gel in his sling bag, bouncing gently in the snow like Legolas – like this jogging elf. Do you think he would say hello to me? Of course not.

Never happened before. no way. real. Not once.

on the contrary.

A jogger like that stares at me like I'm a playmate and he's out with his girlfriend.

To him, I was the fat man, the old man whom he did not want to be given a sense of superiority, the old man whom he did not want to greet with pity. I'm telling you, it's a thing! Out of sheer courtesy, joggers greet only their peers: people of the same gender, same age, same BMI.

Is a similar dynamic present in cycling? Or mountain climbing? Go swimming? At the gym? Write it in the comments.