Have you ever stopped to watch a runner? I’m not talking about watching its strangely sinewy chicken legs swish back and forth under its way-too-short shorts, or the aggressive breaths it takes as if to say “Who’s sweating? NOT ME!” I’m not even talking about that annoying little jogging-in-place thing it does at every curb (we get it. It’s waiting for the light and burning calories at the same time. I’ll just watch while I eat this Dunkin’ Donuts), I am asking if you’ve ever noticed the way that a runner constantly seems to be looking for something. Have you ever wondered what it’s looking for?

While the swivel of its head could just be a very awkward way to look at the scenery, it is much more likely that the lonely 6am Sunday runner is looking for someone to share in the brisk cool air with (because let’s face it—who the fuck wants to run on Sunday morning?)

Sophie Lattes, Tufts track and field member and 10 mile runner (OW!) says that moving her head like a confused owl helps her meet new people in the morning when her other friends are asleep in their beds (YES).

“It’s nice to see other runners around me. I mean I don’t know them or anything but I can creepily just run with them, right?Well, more like, follow them. That’s cool, right?”

Another strange trait of the untamed runner is its ability to appear exactly where it has no place being. Ever been out for a nice morning drive? The sun is shining, the birds are singing and you swivel to avoid a sweaty, oncoming human, barreling at you and gasping for air? Of course you have. Because runners think they are cars with slow as fuck wheels so they can’t tell the difference between sidewalk and asphalt. So the next time you’re out, observe the runner in its natural state. The Zamboni encourages you to watch its homing beacon head swivel and its inability to not get hit by a car and thank God for your morbid obesity.