Road rage on Pleasure Street

In the fourteen years I have been running, I have been chased by all manner of dogs and once by a small passel of sheep south of Chetek who had managed to get out of their pen. Numerous times as I have run by a field a horse in amusement will trot alongside me as will cows who are curious as to what this slow moving object is. But early this morning on (of all places) Pleasure Street in Chetek I got stopped by a guy in a truck who flew into a profanity-laced tirade because I wouldn't get off the road. As he hurled “f-bombs” at me he then got into my face and asked if I wanted to “go”. When I didn't accommodate him, he proceeded to insult my manhood further and then got in to his truck and drove off. As for me, I started my route again and angled for home.

For those of us who run we know we have to run defensively. As pedestrians, so long as we're not in the way of traffic, we have the right of way. Early morning runner that I am, even though I wear reflective gear, I never assume drivers see me. For all I know they are fiddling with their radio, texting their friend, sipping their coffee, lighting their cigarette – and for some of them – maybe doing all these tasks at once while driving 55 mph down the road. I can't count how many dark mornings drivers have blasted me with their brights rendering me temporarily blind as I lose all visual acuity. Having said that, as a rule I have found that most drivers are courteous. Once they see me they move to their left a bit putting a comfortable 3-5 feet between us. But from time to time I have to wave my arms if only to catch their attention in case they do not see me or do and don't care to move over. That's what happened this morning.Pleasure hadn't been plowed yet but a few vehicles had already drove down that road. I was running west on the left tire track when I saw a truck with a plow attached heading east at a high rate of speed. Seeing that he wasn't veering to his left I held up my two arms and gestured for him to move over. That's apparently what did it. He slammed on the brake and our encounter ensued.

At first, I actually thought he was jumping out to apologize for driving so close to me until I heard the first of many “f”-words that followed. I did point out to him that he had the whole road to drive around me but that wasn't helpful at all. “Oh, I see...you want to go...?” and then he put his finger in my chest. My response was a quiet, “Settle down.” I remember reading about how when the original running craze began in the 70s, many guy runners had stories of people shouting epithets at them as they drove by and especially enjoyed calling them “faggots.” I always found that curious until this morning when this big burly guy was doing the same to me. Somehow or other a guy in running tights must evoke that kind of response in some guys – or at least, this guy. He threw some more “colorful metaphors” at me, told me (again) that I was an idiot for being out there and then drove off. I resumed my run thinking, “I can't believe that just happened.” I'm still somewhat befuddled by it.

I was never really scared although for a moment I was trying to recall what wrestling skills I used to have in case I needed to defend myself. Really, there's only one other person in the world that I have that effect on – but she loves me anyway. I won't hesitate to gesture again if I need to. Drivers need to remember that if they hit one of us and put in their statement, “I was mad that the guy was out there and that he wouldn't move over” is probably not going to give him a pass with the judge. Of course, I don't want to get hit. I'd rather run and will continue to do so but remain on guard against that guy and any other fool who happens to be offended that I am out there.