Running, Hate, Confusion

I went for a run just now, and something happened I’m completely lost on.

First, to set this up – I’m a completely normal looking person. Those of you who have met me can vouch for this.

I’m just like, a person. I’m not nine feet tall, nor am I four feet tall. (Six foot three, to be precise.)

I don’t have a mohawk or face-piercings, or face tattoos, or like anything that could be considered outside the norm.

On said run, I was wearing the following: gray t-shirt, black running pants, New Balance shoes. Have iPod and keys in hand.

So I’m stopped at a stoplight, waiting for the walk signal. (You’ll actually get ticketed for jaywalking in LA.)

I’m not doing the “run in place” thing or anything weird – I’m just standing there.

I look over, and these two guys in a pick-up are looking at me. Like, staring – and the one guy turns to the other one, says something, and they both shake their heads.

And they keep looking, clearly irritated by me in some way. Now, this is one of those weird intersections where it’s not simply north-south, but all kinds of diagonals, so lights are long.

I’m right there, so I wave for them to put down their window, and I ask what the problem is.

To be clear, this was not confrontational; it wasn’t, “YOU GOT A PROBLEM, BUDDY?!”

I’m paraphrasing here, but it was basically, “Hey, I’m not trying to be weird or anything, but why are you looking at me like I’m a freak? I’m not trying to start anything – I’m seriously just curious.”

They just like laughed, and the one says, “Just go on your run, pal.”

I have no idea what this was about and never will – so strange. Were they anti-health and fitness? Did they hate New Balance? The color gray?

SO THEN I WENT HOME AND CUT MYSELF.