Let me give you a scenario that involves a delicate running-related question: It's afternoon, say 2:30, the lunchtime fitness rush is over. I'm in a Brooklyn park, running, no one else is around. Then, on a half-mile, wide-open stretch, I see the oncoming runner. He is running hard. Me, too, or as hard as I can. Presumably, he sees me. In a minute, we pass, within inches, the only two humans around, like the crisscrossing contrails of two jets in a blue sky. In that moment of intersection, I nod, say, "Hey," and raise the palm of my hand ever so slightly, as in a modest wave. The runner is quiet, passes, no recognition, eyes straight ahead.

What happened there? Why did I say anything? Why didn't he? The dictionary describes waving as the movement of the hand "to and fro in greeting or as a signal." Which is what I did. Did he not notice?

Waving and running. Sure, it's not a contentious, constantly news-cycled issue, like, say, the economy or American Idol contestants-but believe me, it's a big one. How do I know? When I mention the issue to runners, friends and strangers alike, I get a response-or more like a reaction, especially from nonwavers who wonder what the hell wavers are waving about. And after almost a year of fieldwork regarding waving as it pertains to runners, I can report that, while people tend not to openly discuss it, and while a whole lot of people don't even do it, waving is a binary issue: You are either for waving or against it, like you're either for tucking your running shirt into your running shorts or not tucking it in, another hot topic, I hear. As such, waving should be discussed-must be discussed, at least as far as I'm concerned.

For the purposes of this report, waving includes nodding, smiling, grinning, shrugging, or the utterance or near utterance of many other words or word-like words, including all variations on hello, such as hi, hiya, uh, huh, and mhm. Hence a wave is any and all acknowledgments of the presence of the other runner. A wave says, I greet you, casually, in the midst of your journey, a journey that is not unlike mine, as I am running, too. That may be only how I would say it, but you get the idea. A nonwaver, therefore, is someone who doesn't do these things-i.e., someone who does not wave. Furthermore-and this is key-a nonwaver does not appear, especially to the waver, to acknowledge the waver in any way.

I speak, as you may have surmised, as a waver. Some of my best friends are nonwavers, though not that many. Nonwavers are good solid citizens who just choose not to wave when they run. My friend Andy is a nonwaver, and yet he is one of the nicest guys I know. There was a time he let me stay at his place and I lost his keys and had to break his windows, and he apologized to me for having such a hard-to-break window. Still, for Andy, running is a kind of meditation, so he is not out looking for runners, or for runners who wave. And I can respect that.


But as a waver, I admit I can feel kind of, well, dissed if a wave is unreturned. I take the nonwave from the nonwaver to mean that he does not perceive me, or does not want to perceive me. Which is not a big problem, though I fear the day could be near when nonwavers dismiss wavers as crazy and wavers think nonwavers don't give a damn about anybody but their nonwaving selves. Why? Because I'm already sensing an antiwave bias. And people aren't discussing it, except for me.

More and more we live in an anti-wave country, and we must admit this before we can reconcile our feelings about waving. This is not just my waver's paranoia talking. This is a fact. Every day, wavers suffer from the decision of nonwavers not to wave. I blame American culture, in part because everyone else is blaming American culture for stuff. It's the culture that raises kids not to wave because everyone's a stranger (which is strange in itself). Greeting someone is something you mostly do at Wal-Mart, after you have been downsized. In this day and age, some might ask, why would anyone wave?

If we wavers are ever to be accepted as runners, then we will need to explain to others, especially nonwavers, why we wave. As a waver, a wave on a run is akin to the casual wave one might offer if one sat down on a bar stool next to another beer-drinking human being. Or it's what one might do if one were greeting the only other person waiting in the dentist's waiting room. And this may sound like a real stretch, but we wave to help our fellow runner, waver and nonwaver alike. Sounding like a lunatic waver, I'm sure, I spoke with Judy Van Raalte, a professor of psychology at Springfield College, in Springfield, Massachusetts. She indicated that some scientists who have studied the matter of what is sometimes referred to as social facilitation might argue that being waved at could actually enhance the performance of the person being waved at, such is the wiring of the brain.

On the other hand, putting rigorous scientific thought aside, we may never understand precisely why people don't wave. Such a project would require electrodes attached to the nonwaver's brain, and people in vans with monitors. And yet we, as wavers, can feel certain-even without scientific proof-that it is not us [waver's emphasis]; that we wavers are not causing the nonwave, despite the slights we accept and inadequacies we might feel.

Here's some proof, or the kind of evidence I like to call proof: Recently, I discussed waving with a friend who runs on a street that happens to be a three-mile circular road, utilized by the neighborhood as a kind of house- and tree-lined running track. It's a really nice run, and it is in Oregon, which New Yorkers like me think of as a friendly place, even if many of us have not been there. This friend, let's call her Denise, is a waver, and when passing another runner that she sees regularly, she will wave, sometimes receiving a wave back, sometimes not. "I know it's not about me," she says, somewhat convincingly, the waver's mantra. Among the people who wave and don't wave on this running loop is one woman who regularly did not wave to Denise. Time passed, Denise eventually stopped waving. One day, the nonwaver's car was broken into. Denise stopped to help her. Police came, Denise waited, Denise checked in later. Denise was a good neighbor, is what I am saying-a waver going out of her way for a nonwaver, because, in part, that's how wavers are. The next time they passed on the course, the nonwaver waved. But then a few weeks later, the nonwaver began to wave less, until at last returning to her nonwaving ways. Which shows, I suppose, that the wave or don't-wave setting comes programmed on your internal hard drive by default. Maybe waving can't be learned.

We can, though, easily study when people are more and less likely to wave-specifically, by waving at them. Thus, my roughly yearlong investigation, which I like to refer to by an expert-sounding phrase that I made up: exercise gesture awareness research. Because the field of gesture awareness is small and young, I chance to offer only a few early summations here, just a sketch of what I have learned while observing not only runners waving, but also the reactions of runners being waved at.

It's all about timing. The earlier in the running day, the more likely people will return waves. Waving likeliness declines through lunch and seems to increase again before dark but never reaches its early morning highs. When I count the percentage of waves on a morning run across the East River and into Manhattan, for instance, I can get well into the 90th percentile, as opposed to the afternoon, when I might not get any waves-or, if I do, they're not what you might call positive.

Groups wave. That is, if they see you, which is not entirely likely if a group is talking. I see considerable group-waving on weekend mornings, and I believe it has to do with the good vibe that people feel early on a weekend, when their wave says "Hello" but also says, "Isn't this great that we are up early while the rest of the bums are sleeping their lives away?" Note: The fact that people in groups are more likely to wave than individuals could have to do with me-a possibly psychotic, notebook-toting, 45-year-old bald guy waving like a clown-appearing threatening to individuals.


Published: Jan 17, 2009 12:00 AM EST. Wave value, which can be defined as the enthusiasm with which a runner waves, increases when a runner with headphones waves-often a semi-startled wave, accompanied by a kind of raucous smile, and a too loudly shouted (presumably on account of headphone volume) "Hey!" Last week, I nodded and said a quiet hello to a guy with earbuds that I did not notice until after I had nodded. He smiled and shouted so loud that if I were 40 years older, I might have had a heart attack.

Age matters. Older runners are more likely to wave than younger ones. Which ought to say something to younger runners about how priorities change as our running lives go on. There's an old-timer I see, a guy in his late 60s, who keeps a pace that makes me jealous, and he always gives me a nod. To me, a runner holding out hope that I'll still be on the road well into my later years, that nod feels more like an inspiring salute.

London Marathon Results. There is an inverse relationship, since waving is more likely in bad weather than in good. Naturally, this depends on a lot of things, such as visibility issues. But I have found that if you are running in, say, pouring rain, and you wave to someone as you pass them, they may even comment on the weather, often in a slightly facetious but friendly way. Some common responses are: "Beautiful day, huh?" and "What were we thinking?" and "Can you believe we're out here?" You don't get that kind of commentary if you are a nonwaver.

These are my findings. My data is fresh and thus it can be seen as offering lots of insights, like the report of a crack psychologist, or as full of holes, like a nut bar. In the end, I know that any serious exercise gesture awareness analyst must face scrutiny. One question that's sure to arise is philosophical: "What do I, as a waver, want?" Do I want nonwavers to wave always and everywhere? Probably not. In fact, that seems a bit weird. And now that I think of it, a world composed purely of wavers might even be a scary thing. Legions of wavers, none of them just letting you pass, none of them letting you get away without waving, nonwavers being run up trails, back into homes and police stations by wavers pleading with them to wave, beseeching them.

Then again the opposite-no waving at all-is just as scary, if not scarier. That's why we need to investigate further. We need to try things out. Wave a little more, and don't wave a little more, depending. We need wave change. I am convinced that, through more fieldwork, and with more waving awareness as well as waving understanding on the part of wavers and nonwavers alike, we as runners and as Americans can strike the perfect balance, or at least create a situation where no one gets hit. We must support both sides, the wavers and the nonwavers alike. But if you are a nonwaver, could you help me out a little? Could you just give me some kind of sign?