Like many parts of the Vermont, bicyclists and runners are no strangers in the Champlain Islands and I'm always appreciative of the well-trained drivers who carefully give a wide berth to those of us on the edge of the road. The waves of massive snow storms and berms of plowed snow make being courteous a bit harder for drivers, but they still make the effort to give us space.
Today when I headed out, everything was white. The sky was white, the fields and yards were white, the road was mostly white except where patches of slush had broken free from endless freezing days. Black and green mailboxes poked out of their snow caves, and the muffled sound of snow blowers and roof rakes could be heard.
In the pedestrian-unfriendly monochromatic whiteness, I pulled on a bright red fleece and hit the road. By making it easy for drivers to see me, the drivers make it easy for me run in the travel lane, which is nice because that is really the only space available. There aren't too many cars on East Shore Road on a Sunday morning, but every one of them waved and eased into the oncoming lane, and it made me smile a little every time. There are really nice, helpful people out here.
Until the silver Subaru. I was pretty close to my turn-around point, feeling cheerful and a little winded when a car came barreling right at me! Ok, actually, she was just going the speed limit and was traveling squarely within her lane, but her lack of effort to move over left me covered in a gray, road-salt laden Slurpee. I reflexively turned and threw my hands in the air with the international 'WTF?!' gesture, but the car didn't slow. I ran the next several minutes thinking, 'People are lame! Drivers suck! They aren't nice at all!' A few cars came by, and all gave me plenty of space, and I eased back into a good runner-driver relations mood.
About 1 mile from home, the silver Subaru passed me again. This time, she pulled way out into the oncoming lane, and came to full stop to wait for me with the passenger window down. "I think I splashed you back there -- I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to!" Her tween-age daughter looked a little embarrassed/intrigued in the front seat. (The look on her face was cross between 'my mom is so lame' and 'maybe there'll be fight!' ) I was tickled that she stopped to apologize, and so relieved to know that she hadn't intentionally slushed me with schadenfreude that I happily accepted her apology and even suggested I deserved it. (I mean, I did chose to go out the door in these conditions.)
But mostly, I was just happy to end the run knowing that every driver I passed was a good neighbor.
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