Pavement, 101

Apparently the start of my 35th year on this planet is also to mark the start of my old man stage. For whatever reason - genetics, most likely - I've reached a stage of rickety-ness (poor word, I know) that I've not experienced before. The night-time is always the best, especially when I wake up at 2am. I'm lucky to have handrails down both sides of my stairs; without them I would most certainly take a header down to the landing. It's my knees, you see. Sure I've had some aches in pains in years past. But these puppies throb constantly; it's a bone thing too, nothing that ice can really solve. Up until about a week ago, it was only my right knee. And it was that hollow sort of pain - the kind where it feels like someone punched you in the gut. Apparently my left knee was feeling the outsider, so a few days ago it started up with its own chorus of displeasure. Perhaps it's because of my increased mileage; or maybe it's because my shoes have been in service since October. But more likely, it's just stuff catching up. Problem is, I didn't think it would catch up til much later.

So on my way to work (about 8.5 miles), I gave some thought to the interaction between runner and driver. It's a topic that I consider quite a bit, since there seems to be no end to careless drivers, gleefully oblivious that there's actually someone on the road who is not encased in steel. With that, here is my advice that all drivers should consider as they approach a runner (or biker, or walker etc).

1. Don't honk. I'm sure you're intending your honk to be friendly, but lots of runners I know (myself included) go into a semi-trance, lulled there by the rhythm of one's run. I've been scared out of my scandalous running shorts on many occasions, compliments of a horn. What's worse, is this often leads the runner to change their attention away from the run, leaving plenty of room for a turned ankle, a trip or other such badness. If you must honk, wait until you pass the runner, throw a wave out the window and then honk. By the time you pass the runner (assuming you're coming from behind), he/she will likely realize it's you (yes we do look at every car that passes) and then a friendly honk/wave combo is quite nice.

2. Control your dog. This applies to drivers and fellow pedestrians. I love animals. Heck I even stopped eating them because I like them so much. But it's quite frustrating when a dog owner allows the canine to extend the leash across the entire path of the forthcoming runner. I've actually had to jump over dogs, whilst the clueless owner chuckles and offers a meek apology. So if you see a runner, bring your dog close to you til he/she passes. As a driver, if your canine is riding shotgun and you approach a runner from the front, can you guess what your pooch is going to do? That's right, hang his/her head out the window and bark holy hell. Can you guess what this does to the runner? That's right, it rips them out of their semi-trance just long enough to crap their shorts.

A final note on this: I run a lot in rural PA. There's lots of dogs out there - sometimes I think they run wild, like deer or turkey. It's very common for me to run by some random house whereupon a solo run becomes me and a pack of dogs (think Ceaser from Dog Whisperer). I had one dog follow me for a mile, as a I went back and forth trying to shake him. I became so concerned, that I ran all the way back to house that he came from. Still nothing. I started to run down the driveway and finally the owner opened the door and scolded the rather happy pup. Without a doubt, this dog would have kept running with me, all the way back to my cat-infested house. I've had dogs run out onto busy streets and stand there until I walk them back to their owner. Moral of the story: please keep your dog attached to your land in some form; because although they're lovely animals, I'd rather them remain your animals, and not become one with the pavement.

3. Move over. This seems simple, right? Most runners point into traffic (so basically they run on the left side of the road, as cars come towards them). As you approach a runner on the road, move towards the center of the road. You don't have to get completely in the other lane; just a little space would nice. It's amazing how many drivers don't move at all; some actually move toward the runner. What most drivers don't see or realize is that the runner often can't move to their left without going off the road completely or over the guardrail or into some ankle biting terrain. I've had drivers veer towards me; had drivers run me off the road; had passengers attempt to spit on me; expletives yelled at me (was it the shorts?); had cars turn into me; even had a car back up and challenge me to a fight (crazy!). We don't ask for much. And obviously we're not going to play chicken with a 2000 pound piece of steel. But just give it a thought next time.

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That's enough lamenting for now. Marathon coming up on May 31st - maybe you'll be out there. Oh, and it's a road race, so if you drive by, lay off the horn.

See you on the pavement.

He's a vegetarian, uh-oh

May 1, 2008 was the day I became a vegetarian. For those clock watchers, you'll note that today, the day of this writing, is May 2. So I can't say I've done this for all that long. And truthfully, my goal is to only "become" a vegetarian for a month. After that? Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Time will tell.

I have to give credit to two things. Number one: not too long ago, during the winter months, I was running on the treadmill in the student rec center on the campus where I work. It was a cold, bleary-eyed, but otherwise normal morning. Funny thing about treadmills, you run forever but never actually go anywhere. And whilst you are stationary, you are required to regard that which is directly in front of you. Oh sure, once in a while, if you muster the courage, you can look left or right. But I know very few treadmill runners who haven't grabbed the oh-shit handlebar to avoid a fall after such a glance. In that you're required to look ahead, you're held captive to what's displayed on the wall-mounted flat screen. On this particular day it was good morning america, or a similar type program. And on this particular day some behind-the-scenes footage was shown of a slaughter-type place where they bring cows into a facility and unceremoniously kill them. Of course I've known that this sort of thing occurs. It's not like I eat a steak or piece of chicken and can't envision from whence it came. But on this particular day, the images were dreadful: it showed workers moving sick cows with a forklift; pushing them, lifting them up. All the while, the poor cows are crying or mooing or making other cow noises. It was positively pathetic - both for the cows, who were entirely helpless, and for the humans who would contribute to such disgraceful treatment of animals. To say that this affected me greatly would be an understatement.

So what's number two? My cats. Three of them, to be exact. No kidding. I know that we don't serve up cat for dinner; and it's rare that you see cats being prodded with a forklift (they are, after all, quite small). But what I do know is that my cats, stupid as this sounds, have taught me how great animals are. And that I probably don't want to eat them (animals in general - not cats - don't be gross).

Even though it's only day 2, I'm feeling pretty good about this decision. I'm not a crusader nor am I trying to save the world. I'm not going to wear birkenstocks or patchouli oil. Maybe I'll lower my blood pressure or finally drop those few extra pounds. But really, in the end, I'm just what seems right for me. And for the cows. And the chickens. I'll keep you posted.

Oh, and if you see me at a McDonalds, tackle me.

See you on the pavement.