"Hey you!"

"It's not too far, it just seems like it is."

(Yogi Berra -- giving directions to Yogi's Hall of Fame Racquetball Club in Fairfield, New Jersey.)

"Hey, you!...Could you tell me how to get to......" I can't tell you how many times this inquiry is thrown at me from moving cars, bicycles, pedestrians, passer-byes and the average clueless person during a run. During the first couple months of training I thought I understood why directionally challenged Detroiters consistently chose me to point them in the right direction. Obviously, a person running through the streets of a city, would likely have a decent idea how not to get lost. This rationale I accepted, and did my best to help people find the ball park, casino, liquor store, or concert hall.

After four months and 350 miles, the interruptions from the wayward and lost are only increasing in frequency. Last week I was flagged down on four separate occasions during a 7 mile run, each time by teenage, floppy-haired hipsters driving their parent's car aimlessly through Detroit looking to get to St. Andrews Hall. None of them showed any remorse for interrupting me. To them, and all others, I am a travel kiosk in running shoes. Never mind that such stopping and starting throws a runner off stride. Just get me to the Blink 182 concert on time!

As I write, I've decided to take a stand. At the risk of being perceived as rude, callous, and indifferent to the needs of others, I'm going to toss the "do not disturb" sign on the kiosk door. I completed my longest training run of 14 miles this past Saturday. After two hours of running, I realized that if I stopped, I would have a helluva time starting the engine back up. Fortunately, at this time, I wasn't greeted by any "how do I get to's..." But, had this greeting come, I would have been forced to implement my one man protest. I doubt this stand of mine will start the next great social movement. I doubt just as much that the city of Detroit will suffer the ill effects of map-less teenagers wandering through the streets.