Who Let The Dogs Out? 1/10/10

I seem to have a problem with the dry, winter air. I can tell because when I push the pace, like today, I breathe harder during the run, and hyperventilate when I'm done. Since I was struggling a bit at the 5-mile mark, I welcomed the chance to stop, but only because I had to. I'd never pause, just because I was winded.
An exuberant Border Collie, no leash in tow-owner ineffectually yelling from a distance, came bounding through muzzle-deep snow to see what all the running was about. I stopped, because you're supposed to. The dog will then either stop, or, grateful for a stationary target, eviscerate you on the spot. This pooch was obviously just curious-she never even barked-and came up to me wagging her tail. She let me rub under her chin and across the top of her head, finally heeding her owner's commands to come, which were still being shouted from a distance.
The owner never said anything to me, which is the norm in these cases. Either they are embarrassed, or clueless as to courtesy. That used to really piss me off, and I would usually demand acknowledgment of having been inconvenienced and scared. Usually that was greeted with silence, too. I didn't do it this time, and I probably won't in the future, for the same reason I don't flip off as many motorists as I used to: I'm not running to get stressed out; I'm running to relieve stress, among other reasons.
If I were to need an outlet for my running-related anger, what would it be? Violent video games? Spelunking? Numismatics? What would I do with all my shoes?
Thanks for humoring me.

The stats:
6 mi. 49:30, or 8:15/mi.
Sunny, 15 degrees, s.w. wind.