I wonder what goes through the mind of a (non-runner) driver passing by a runner strung out from miles and miles and miles.
I suppose it is highly dependent upon the driver, given the varying
reactions I've noticed, ranging from the asinine cat-calls to the little
old lady who, although she has seen you, refuses to look at you while
gripping the steering wheel, staring straight ahead, unwilling to yield
even an inch of her road.
The one driver's perspective upon which I can draw is, obviously enough,
my own, but I think that mine, along with most of ours as a running
community, is somewhat skewed.
More often than not, I find myself a bit jealous of the fatigued runner,
wistful of the satisfaction found in exertion while simultaneously
waxing nostalgic over runs of days and years past.
Occasionally, if the effort, form, and overall countenance of the runner
look sufficiently strained, I'll feel a momentary twinge of pity, which
is ironic given that, even at my worst moments, I still (possibly
errantly, if not conceitedly) considered myself and my plight above the
pity of motorists passing by.
But the question remains, regardless of the reaction of a given driver,
what are the first opinionated observations and subsequent thoughts of a
driver unacquainted with the nuances of our addiction?