Why is the UPS man friendlier than my neighbors?

I run. And it’s an unlikely hobby/sport/activity for me, because frankly, I am really bad at it.

In high school, our gym teacher, Ms. Helene, would send us off to run the mile. My friend Renae and I would always bring up the rear. I think we justified our sloth-like tendencies with the fact that our gym teacher was on her bicycle, barking at everyone to go faster or do their best or at least stop walking. She just wasn’t all that inspirational. But really, we just sucked at running and were too lazy to even attempt to improve.

Later, in college, I signed up for a class called “Conditioning” with my roommate Mary. Those nights of ordering pizza and drinking beer were catching up, and the dreaded “Freshman 15” was quickly becoming a reality. So, let’s fulfill the liberal arts phy ed requirement and get in shape at the same time, shall we? And when do said classes occur? At 8am, of course! So, off we’d go...crabby, unmotivated, frequently hungover, behind on our homework in every class (well, Mary wasn’t actually behind, fucking brainiac...). Our teacher was from England and his name was Angus. He was hairy and in really good shape. He would send us all out to run various routes on campus and Mary and I would promptly run right back to the dorm, where we usually arrived in time to power down a couple of donuts from the cafeteria before heading back to our room to take a nap. As I drifted off to sleep, I justified all this with the fact that I took the class pass/fail. I passed.

Fast forward to the days after my separation following 13 years of marriage. I started to run out of spite. Out of angst-filled, misplaced, competitive spite. You see, my ex was good at running. He was fast, he had run a half marathon, blah, blah, blah. I thought, if that rat bastard who left me can run, I can run!!! I’ve grown children in my body and birthed them without drugs!!! Surely I can run!! But, knowing that I sucked at it, I started running at 11pm so that my neighbors couldn’t see if I collapsed. And I knew there was a pretty darn good chance of that.

A funny thing happened. I got hooked. Eventually I began to run in broad daylight. Oh sure, I was huffing and puffing, desperately trying to slow my breathing when I ran past someone else. (I just hate it when they give me sympathetic, or worse, worried looks...). And when I moved to the city, that was it, I was definitely a runner. Running there was so fun!! The blocks were short, there was all this energy in the air, there was so much to see and to distract a person from the heart exploding out of one’s chest and general concern about where to find a bathroom if a sudden poopmergency should occur.

Now, here I am in the burbs. Here you run and run and runandrunandrunandrunandrun and then you go home and map your route and see that you went a couple of miles, even though you were sure you just ran 10. There are all these hills and during certain times the lawn chemicals that permeate the air are so strong you can actually feel your healthy cells morphing into cancerous ones.

But still, I run.

And as I run, I have observed that the folks out and about in these parts are just not very friendly. Here’s how it goes...

I am running and a car is approaching. I am running against the traffic, of course, because I know that 90% of these people are looking down at their cell phones, 25% of them are new teenage drivers who just passed the test even though they shouldn’t have and 100% of them are not expecting to see anyone on the street because hardly anyone here goes out of their house at all. It used to be that I would put on my happy face as the car approached, all Pollyanna/we should get together for a BBQ some time/maybe I’ll plan a block party next National Night out, and I would wave and smile despite the fact that I could barely breathe from the effort. One of the following possible scenarios would then occur:

1. The person in the car would not look at me at all, staring straight ahead as if they could only focus on the task of driving...which got me thinking... Do they even see me? What if I was clutching my heart with palpitations? Would they stop if I tried to wave them down? Do they see that my face is the color of the beets their grandma canned in 1961, which are still in the basement of her farm house in Vernon Center, Minnesota? Do they???

2. The person in the car would not look at me, but would be smiling. Smiling and not looking. It is some sort of Minnesota nice, yet Minnesota rude, combination of behaviors. I SEE you, but I wish not to look at you, but I wish not to offend you, so I will not look at you but will smile, but with my mouth closed (grin), so that you have to look pretty close to even notice that it is a smile (grin) at all. And now you are actually wondering if I am smiling (grinning) at you, or just remembering some really good sex I had last night or an article I read in Cat Fancy that makes me smile (grin). Because I just love cats, and now I am remembering my own cat, who is the only living creature I have actually made eye contact with in 23 years.

3. And this is the worst one of all, the most unforgivable, the most maddening. The person in the car looks directly at me, does not smile, does not wave. Just looks right at me. Really? Well, fuck you! Do you think you are in a bubble, there in your Escalade that cost more than what 48 immigrant families could live on for an entire year? Oh, I am on to you. You with your judgement. You are wondering about the music I’m listening to. Yes, as a matter of fact I am listening to the Parental Advisory versions of all the songs that your fundamentalist pastor told you would make your kids turn to drugs and sex. You are wondering about my bandana, aren’t you? Don’t most suburban ladies just wear your basic visor or baseball cap when they “exercise”? She must be one of those liberal hippie types. You think you can make these judgements while staring/not smiling/not waving because you know that you will drive home and pull right into your garage and even if you happen to see me, I am like 4 full acres away and that is why you moved out here so you could feel like you are in a “neighborhood”, but you never really have to talk to anybody at all.

4. Sometimes a moderately overweight, middle-aged lady with blond hair & dark roots who looks over-tired and is driving too fast because she is definitely late and it is her morning to drive carpool actually does smile and wave at me. But, I always see the little hint of confusion on her face as she speeds by, because the only reason she waves is because she THINKS she knows me (and of course, she doesn’t). She was just trying to be politically correct, not actually friendly, you see.

Do these people not see how I’m struggling? I shouldn’t be the one to have to worry about the waving. I should be waved AT, as I focus on my breathing and gut-busting side ache. Can’t they see that my dog can stop, squat, poop, do the scratching-backward-to-cover-your-poop thing that some dogs do, and resume her running and I didn’t even have to stop and wait for her? I’m going THAT slow! I NEED your smiles. I NEED your waves. I need to believe that you are sympathizing with my efforts out here, people. (Note: I know you noticed that I didn’t mention picking up the dog poop, and I can ASSURE you, I only DON’T pick it up if I can direct Lola to a ditch or tall prairie grass area).

And then there are the yard people! None of them MEANT to be in the yard. It happened by accident. They had to get the mail, they had to mow the lawn, their wife told them they had to go out and play catch with the 8-year-old because he needs some time with his barely interested dad. They are equally good at ignoring other humans in their general domain. They fall into these categories:

1. People at the mailbox, in the yard, just leaving to exercise themselves. Once in a while, someone accidentally looks up and is forced to decide. Do I look away? Do I smile and say hello? Do I wave and say nothing? You can feel their stress, their awkwardness. They never meant to be in this situation. Didn’t they move out here to avoid just this? I usually bail them out by waving and saying hello with a big smile. Then, I instantly resent them if they don’t respond the same way.

2. Middle-aged-mowing-men. These guys are on their riding mowers and what in the world are they thinking? Are they reminiscing about that touchdown they scored in 11th grade during the JV game against the Pirates? Are they contemplating leaving their wife? Are they considering suicide? They look THAT miserable. And what’s with the headphones? They all have these headphones on. Are they “avoiding” with the headphones? Well, honey, I didn’t hear you calling to me that my mom was on the phone, because I had “the headphones” on. These guys NEVER wave and they never look. They just keep mowing. I wonder if they feel proud of their overly chemically treated, golf-course-like lawns. At least I know where I stand with them.

And then there are the other runners. Oh sure, they know there is a chance they might run into someone else. After all, they are venturing FROM their air-conditioned privacy to a PUBLIC street. So they have planned ahead. They will either look straight ahead, not feel bad about it and if you run into them later, deny having seen you at all. Or, they will wave with camaraderie and exasperation (since we’re all out here working so hard). The camaraderie I love, of course!! Yes, here we all are, exercising!! We can do it!! My legs are jiggling, too!!! Let’s run a 10k together!! But, I do love to taunt the ones who don’t look by shouting things like...well, you’re running uphill, but at least it’s shady!!

But then... there are the UPS men (and certainly there must be UPS women, but I have sure never seen one...). The UPS men ALWAYS smile and wave. I have become so, so grateful for them. When I see that truck coming down the street, I know what is going to happen. I don’t have to stress out about it at all. We will BOTH smile and wave. It is just so predictable and comforting. It makes me want to run home and order a bunch of stuff off the Home Shopping Network, so that they will deliver it to my house and I can bring them inside and offer them iced tea, and organic vegetables I grew in the garden that they can bring home to their family and I will also offer to help them sell their house for a discounted commission and send pots of the beautiful perennials I just divided up for them to plant in their gardens.

And this all gets me thinking. Do people only have enough “nice” to use at, say, work? Or with their family? Is there a limitation on available friendliness and kindness in the human race? Does the UPS man smile and wave at me, but then go back to the UPS garage, drop off the truck, get in his Chevy Traverse and go to his own neighborhood, NOT waving to his neighbors out running?

I may never know. But for now, I think I’ll keep waving and smiling and hoping...