I enjoy distance running. In fact, I more than enjoy it. I enjoy it a whole lot. I generally find it to be an altogether rewarding, healthful, challenging and safe activity. Unfortunately, the events of last Thursday have forced me to reassess the safety aspect. It was around 2 p.m. (as opposed to 2 a.m., which is actually the optimal time for exercise) on that fateful, frightful day. A teammate and I embarked on a long and somewhat fast training run. As we cruised through the streets within and around the campus, our coach followed to record the times of each passing mile. Later, we would realize that we were pretty lucky to have him around.
Several miles into the workout, we found ourselves running down the sidewalk on engineering row, thinking nothing of the crosswalk that we were approaching. As we began to cross, we were shocked to see an SUV on our right accelerating to beat us to the intersection. Considering the speed at which we were running and the proximity of the vehicle, we knew that for us to completely stop would not be an option.
As we slammed on our brakes, the SUV only sped up further. Thankfully, the vehicle narrowly missed us. In an effort to maintain balance and also to communicate my extreme displeasure with the driver, I reached out and touched his back-left window (which was directly in front of my face) with my open palm. I would call it a slap, but that would be an overstatement. And I’m not one to exaggerate.
The driver immediately began to honk as he screeched to a halt. Here is where the story gets particularly awesome. As we continued to run (away), the enraged driver jumped out of his car and began to yell, verbatim, “Do you wanna make it?! Do you wanna make it?!”
“Make what?” one of our coaches later mused. War? Love? A cake? In response to his query, we further provoked him by asking him to first try to “catch us.” We meant on foot. He decided it better to chase us down in his car. A bit down the road, he pulled beside us, spraying profanities as if they’re going out of style (they’re not). Of course, I might have dropped a few myself. You know, to keep it real.
As the argument (and the speed at which we were running) intensified, we began to fear for our lives. Apparently, the handprint that I had left on his window was grounds for fighting in whatever culture this driver had been raised. Perhaps he was raised by SUV-driving wolves? I mean, it’s not like he came within a couple feet of ending our lives in a vehicle that weighs approximately 80 billion pounds.
Eventually, his argument devolved into the repeating of the single sentence, “Do you want to fight me?!” And although I do enjoy a good fight, I was in hardly the aerobic condition to properly defend myself. Thank the Lord Jesus, it was right about then that our coach pulled even with the driver. When asked his name, the infuriated driver replied without any hint of reluctance. His tone changed pretty quickly when our coached revealed his identity. That is, replace “infuriated” with “painfully apologetic.”
So when you’re out there driving on campus, drinking your mocha lattes and blasting your new Justin Timberlake CDs, please try to stay at least a bit mindful of the wellbeing of those around you. As far as I can tell, someone on foot has the right-of-way on a crosswalk. In the very least, keep in mind the safety of all individuals involved. Unless, of course, you are just looking to “make it.” In that case, drive as recklessly as you want.