The other day I took one of my predisposed courses, down one of the country’s most recognized streets, Peachtree. Notice I didn’t same famous, just recognized in the way you recognize a brand like Starbucks. Yes, we have as many Peachtree versions as there are Starbucks in this town. So there I am, trucking along at my 7:15 mile training pace when I approach a traffic light. All I see are people with their heads down, smacking their fingers on their “not so smart because it’s going to get me killed one day” phones. Yes, I admit, if I was sitting in my car, I would be right there with them.
The point is, not one of them sees me, the runner. I’m like a deer running through Valley Forge Park, which happens to kill more deer by motor vehicle than any other park in the country. Actually, I made that up, but growing up there, it seemed like there was a deer calamity every few days. My family killed four over the years, including the one I took out on December 31, 1981. They’re drawn to the nightlight, sadly.
I digress. So as I head down Peachtree, I pass by the very first Starbucks in Atlanta. Waiting for the light at the strip center is a black luxury SUV and behind it, a silver luxury sedan. My guess is that both were on their smart phones. Suddenly the black SUV sees something coming towards it, like a deer in headlights. That something was me, cutting across the intersection. In an attempt to give me room to pass in front, rather than around its masterfully sculpted nose, the driver backed up. Unfortunately, it did not look for the car behind it and smacked its elevated body into the low-sitting sedan. Of course, I attempted to discourage the black SUV from moving, but to no avail.
For a brief second, I faced a moral dilemma. Do I stop or do I keep running. Technically, I was the instigator, but I’m a runner and like a pedestrian, free from responsibility. And clearly, the SUV can’t argue their mistake, regardless of the intention. So, consider this my attempt at reporting the accident. Call it a … a Run-N-Run.