Some people, when they're jogging, look like well-bred gazelles -- the very image of poise, determination, grace and fluidity -- slicing the air around them with the smooth, streamlined efficiency of a penguin through water. They're confident in their mission, passing slackers and bystanders with a nod, a quick "hello," or a defiant gaze into the distance.

When I run, it's like a penguin on land. Awkward, complicated, disjointed -- I'm not just a jogger, I'm a skiing accident in progress. Sweat pours down my bright-red, puffy face, overshadowed only by my heavy, conspicuously audible breathing. Even worse, is that I'm prone to pepper this labored inhalation with self-motivational comments. "Come on, dude! Push it! Let's do this!" Embarrassing as it is to divulge this problematic verbal diarrhea after the fact, it's way, way worse when I'm overheard mid-sentence.

Then, albeit only for a moment, I'm face to face with a total stranger, forced to acknowledge each other's existence the way you're forced to acknowledge a loud fart in a crowded elevator. Do I shrug? Do I grin? Do I pretend like it wasn't me? Most times I say something lame, like "hi there," but now that I've been followed not once, but twice by local law enforcement during my nightly fitness vigil, I figure maybe it's best to keep my head down, and quit scaring the college kids that live in my neighborhood.

But even when I'm not caught saying something asinine, I never know how to interact with pedestrians, other joggers, or people waiting for the bus whose eyes happen to meet mine. Tell me, joggers, how do deal with this surprisingly awkward situation? Am I making a big deal out of nothing? I tried to find some helpful links but I'm the internet is disturbingly silent on this issue.