People…

I always run in my neighborhood.  It’s convenient, pretty, and I just like it.  I get passed by cars regularly; this is a golf-course neighborhood, so it’s gated & most everyone who drives through lives here.  Anywho, when I run & get passed by vehicles coming my way, I usually just give a very laid back peace sign to whomever is coming toward me, just to be nice, I guess.  I don’t try to make eye contact; I’m running, here, right?  So, sometimes I stop when I get to the backside of my ‘hood & stretch & compose myself for  a moment.  There is an alternate entrance here, as well, and this morning, this beautiful black Escalade was pulling through right near where I was just approaching …I looked at the ladies inside – driver and passenger, smiled & slightly waved.  The LOOK!  It was a mixture of disgust and constipation all rolled into one!  The horror!  Wazzup widdat?????  I don’t get it.  Immediately, I reminded myself, ‘oh yeah, that’s why I don’t really look at the freaks drivng by!!’  Needless to say, they didn’t return the casual greeting with any modicum of kindness, and it just got me wondering what they have to be so miserable about???  They live in a great neighborhood, drive a beautiful vehicle; healthy enough to get around; don’t live in Afghanistan, what more is there?  I just don’t get people. 

At that point, I stretched, took in the moment (birds, etc.), and turned around & headed back – I took a sharp right & found my familiar path, delectibly (sp?) soggy with rain, and enjoyed the more natural inhabitants of my neighborhood.  My quads thank me with a dull burn…