Why don't runners smile?

Something I've been wondering for a while now is why runners never smile at each other, or even acknowledge each other's presence. For an activity as unrelentingly difficult, essentially pointless and frequently unpleasant as running, you would think that those that do it would recognise something in their fellow runners, some sort of bond that unites them in this pursuit that is unfathomable to those that don't do it.

I've tried to get the ball rolling. I've nodded and hello'd and thumbs upped for miles but to no avail. Mostly what you get back is nothing. Sometimes disdain.

The way I see it, running is hard but nobody is forcing you to do it, so you must be getting something out of it, you must have some reason for doing it. And if you're going to do it, why not try and enjoy rather than just endure?

I would start a facebook campaign if I knew how. You might be able to get Rage Against The Machine to number one, but can you get that jogger to smile?

Another lesson learned

Turns out Newell, a client of ours, was a fell runner. A proper one. Ran for his country. 20 miles up and down mountains in the snow and pissing rain in January in under 3 hours. And we're talking real, proper mountains here. Ben Nevis and the like. Which explains the blank expression on his face when I explained how fast my 5km times were coming down and how pleased I was with my progress. He did marathons in about two and half hours "usually", but didn't like road running because it wasn't challenging enough. I changed the subject.

It's only 26.2 miles. How bad can it be?

My initial plan, you see, was to run my first ever marathon alone over the original course in Marathon in Greece. But I understand that most of that original course is now under a dual carriageway and the fumes would kill a Chilean miner and it's normally about 100 degrees, even in winter, so I guess it wasn't a great idea after all. Still fancy it, right enough.
While I was pondering that, however, I was asked to join Team HIM at next year's London Marathon by a friend of mine, Mike Greene. As Mike was kind enough to join me last year on the London to Paris cycle, I decided to return the favour by signing up for the Marathon. And I did it quickly before I had the chance to change my mind.
I'm running it for VICTA, a great charity that supports blind and partially sighted kids. Fundraising is their only source of income so hopefully I can do my bit and help the charity help kids that could really do with the support.
So I figure, after all that, how bad can 26.2 miles be? Not that I've ever run that distance. Nothing even approaching it. In fact, until about two years ago the longest I'd run in my life without stopping or being sick was approximately 3km. And I've learned that measuring runs in kilometres rather than miles to make it look like you've run longer is for wimps. Wish me luck.