High Fivin' White Guy

Last weekend while in Bellingham, I had kind of a kooky experience. I wasn't feeling particularly worky-outy, but I didn't have any major plans (read: I was planning on sitting on my butt and reading the whole day) so I figured since it was a nice day and all, I might as well at least pretend that I was making an effort to be fit and get a short run in. Actually, I talked myself into this gig by only guaranteeing that I'd go on a walk. Walking is better than nothing, right? But once I got my sneaks laced up and my ipod clipped to my hip, I thought I could muster the energy for a run (read: jog), so I headed out on the interurban trail toward the Alabama bridge at a pretty decent clip (read: faster than walking).

For feeling lazy and unenthused, I actually made a pretty decent go of it. I think it's about two miles from Andi's house (where I was staying) to the bridge. I ran (jogged) 95% of the way there and was feeling completely satisfied with the effort. Once I was at the bridge I caught my breath and did a number of strength building exercises; one-legged squats, lunges, etc. (I promise this story has a more interesting point and I'm not just talkin' up my half-assed workout.)

In reality, I was pretty pooped by this point. I felt the beginnings of a cold coming on and I wasn't highly motivated to really push myself, so I told myself I only had to run (jog) from the bridge to the train trestle. I'd guess this was somewhere between half a mile and a mile from the bridge. The thing about it though, is that it looks deceptively short. From the bridge there is a long straight stretch, followed by one corner, and then the trestle. In my mind's eye, it's only a minute or two away. In reality, the straight stretch is pretty darn long as it takes at least a whole song length to run (jog) it.

Nevertheless, this was the deal I made with myself: run to the trestle, then you can walk the rest of the way home. So I took a deep breath and took off from the bridge. Immediately I saw the flaw in my logic, as I didn't really have the energy to run (jog) another step and I already wanted to stop, but I'm actually pretty stubborn when it comes right down to it and darned if I was going to back out of my deal with myself (how could I face myself later?). So I did my best to trudge on.

By this time it was getting to be early afternoon and I was seeing more and more people on the trail. Generally when I'm out running (jogging), I try to make eye-contact with people and smile or say hi. Especially in Bellingham. There are so many less crazy-eyed locos and so many more genuinely normal people.

Today was no exception and I was doing my best to do my civic duty as I slogged my way toward my goal. About half-way down the never-ending straight stretch, I observed a young guy on a dirt bike heading toward me. (I say "young guy" meaning, I have no idea how old he was, only that he was over 15 and less than 30. It seems that as I age, I am losing what little ability I possessed to accurately age other people. Go figure.) In any case, you know the type I'm talking about, right? Backwards baseball hat, brown hair sticking out all wonky, white t-shirt, oversized shorts, seat riding super low so that his knees practically come up to his chin, kind of like a toddler on a trike....can you picture it? So I had already done my first observatory glance and I was preparing to time my eye-contact to just before we passed in order to give him my obligatory grimace smile/head nod of acknowledgment when out of the corner of my eye, I see him extend his arm across the neutral zone of the trail, over to my side, and present his palm face out toward me.

If you know me at all, you know that all my emotions register across my face before I can do anything about it. My thought in that moment went something like this, "What the heck...?? Ohh. No, I'm not gonna...well, (mental shrug) why not!" So in the .2 seconds it took for my brain to recognize the gesture as a pro-offering of a high five, I'm sure this guy saw confusion, recognition, rejection, and finally a cautious acceptance of what I saw before me (or at least, he would've if he were paying attention, which he probably wasn't). So a split second later, I too extended my hand and connected with his palm in a respectable sounding high five.

I smiled as soon as it happened. (How could I not?) It hadn't been one of those perfect high-fives where your hands connect just right to get the really good snapping clap sound, but it hadn't been one of those lame, barely make contact, do we need to try it again? gestures either. Suddenly, I felt motivated and like I was doing a good job on my run (jog). I was a part of a greater team! I was young and healthy and taking advantage of the trail system! I was alive and free, who wouldn't want to be me? (Okay, so maybe Keith Urban might've randomly come up on my ipod right about then, but still). It was cheesy and stupid, but it was true. I felt great! Before I knew it, I was at the train trestle so I slowed to a walk, but I could still feel a big, toothy grin plastered to my face and a slight bounce in my step.

But why the heck had he done that? Was I looking so red and puffy-faced that he thought, man, that girl needs some help? Or perhaps he's just a rogue high-fiver making the world a better place one high five at a time? Maybe he's just über high-five happy and slaps some skin anytime he gets the chance? Perhaps it was a divine appointment and the Lord knew I just really needed the giddy-up? Maybe I just look like a high-fivin' kind of girl? Honestly, I don't know. I turned to see if I could still see the dude - I was half tempted to flag him down, tell him thanks, and give him the third degree about it - but he was long gone (being that his mode of transportation was significantly faster than mine, this was no surprise really). So I just shook my head in wonder thinking, well if that wasn't the darnedest thing!

I thought about it almost the entire way home (that is, until I got close enough to Andi's house to consider what kind of sugary, baked goods would be waiting for me in the fridge) and darned if I could figure it out. I have no idea what motivated that guy to give me a high five, but whatever his intentions, it left me feeling like the world was a slightly better place. And at the end of that day, I gotta believe that's a good thing. So perhaps the next time you're out and about and you see someone who looks like they need it - give 'em a high five. What's the worst that could happen?