Once, while running on Hope Street in Providence from Lippitt Park towards Brown, I caught up to a kid running pretty strong. He would not let me pass him - I surged, then he surged, and without really talking about it we soon got into a pretty decent contest. He wasn't a small-framed runner either, but a decently big guy with a most inefficient stride. Anyway, I couldn't drop him and we ended up really tearing it up until we got to the campus. Before turning off to head to his dorm, the kid told me he rowed crew and asked me if I was, like, a runner. I told him that I had recently run a marathon in a time that I was psyched about but that wouldn't cause a ripple on these boards. He lit up and said, "Wow. A real runner! Cool." or something like that. Anyway, he was stoked to have pushed and been pushed by someone he considered a formidable athlete. I had fun, he was thrilled, I got a little workout in on a day that I hadn't planned one, and we both experienced, spontaneously, a big part of what sport is about: smashing antlers. Nobody was there to cheer us and nothing was on the line but our own will to win.
I guess what I'm saying is that there are times when you can just embrace someone else's willingness to push themselves. I also appreciate that running can serve a number of purposes, including giving the runner some much-needed space and time alone, but I suspect that your solitude is only rarely interrupted by another runner. When it is, maybe that's your cue to celebrate the collaborative aspect of running. Lord knows, there's enough folks out there who hate your stupid shorts, inane t-shirts, and unimpressive physique - even some other runners/joggers. Next time, maybe just run with the guy or gal and see if you can become friends and mutually helpful competitors.