A strong energy coursed through my veins as I ran through a
parking lot running parallel to the Pacific Coast Highway, the beach to my
left, and the road to my right. I had
been running for about two hours, having left home on foot around 6:00 AM. A few miles prior, while making my way
through downtown Santa Monica, I stopped at Philz Coffee for a little pick me
up. Nothing says ‘good morning’ seven
miles into a morning run like the heavenly aroma that hits you when you walk
into a coffee shop. With a piping hot
cup of Aromatic Arabic blend, I exited Philz with a smile. I was still smiling now as the energy boost
from my treat from carried me along pleasantly.
Janet and I had planned to go hiking with some friends at
Escondido Falls in Malibu this morning, so the plan was for me to take off on
foot from our place early, make my way out to the Pacific Coast Highway, and
run along the side of the road until Janet and our friends picked me up along
the way. I estimated by my timing that I
would be able to get somewhere between seventeen and twenty miles of running in
before they found me. The Pacific Coast
Highway is known for it’s scenic driving, as well as a popular route for road
cyclists. The long stretch of highway
that passes through Pacific Palisades and Malibu has a bike lane that varies in
width along certain parts of the road.
The end of the parking lot was nearing and, looking over towards the
road, I noticed the bike lane had widened to a size that would allow ample room
for me to run along the side of the road clear of automobile traffic. I ran towards the guardrail that separated
the parking lot from the road, stepped up onto a wooden block that held up the
guard rail, and hurdled myself over.
That was a mistake. Apparently,
the block was not secured to the rail, and when I stepped up and pushed myself
over the rail with one leg, the block came loose, and my knee came crashing
down onto the metal guardrail. Luckily,
I didn’t fall, but I stumbled over the rail and limped for a few seconds until
the sharp pain forced me to stop. I hopped
back over the guard rail and sat down on a steadier wooden block to regroup. I looked down at my knee to inspect the
damage. No marks except for a very small
scrape. This was good. It hurt, but it wasn’t as bad as it could
have been. I flexed my knee, massaged
the sore spot, and after a couple of minutes, I stood up and began running
again. The pain quickly subsided, and I
was no longer limping. Although I was
grateful for the minimal damage that had been done, I grew a little
apprehensive as I ran along the PCH with cars and trucks passing by so
closely. They were coming up behind me, and
all I could do was hope and pray that everyone was paying attention and I
wouldn’t become PCH roadkill. The
situation made me reminisce on a similar experience I had five years earlier
while I was running in Silver Lake, where I was living at the time. I had run around the Silver Lake reservoir a
few times and was on the final stretch of the return journey to my apartment. My route would take me right on Glendale boulevard
from Rowena street, then a left onto Waverly Drive, and I would run down the
hill, which would deposit me into the front yard of my building. As I ran up the right side of Glendale
boulevard, I saw that the intersection with Waverly was approaching a few
hundred feet ahead. I quickly glanced
over my left shoulder and didn’t see any cars coming, so I glided to the left
across the road while still running straight.
Just as I was approaching the median, I heard the screech of breaks
behind me. The next thing I knew, my
ipod went flying, and I was knocked over and lying on the road, with a stopped
pick up truck behind me. I didn’t take
any time to think about what happened. I
just stood back up and picked up my ipod.
The driver rolled down his window.
“Wow man! Sorry about that. Are
you okay?” “I’m good!” I shot back with a smile. And just like that, I continued running onto
Waverly drive, and down the hill to my apartment. It wasn’t until I arrived back home when It
actually dawned on me what the hell had just happened. During the half mile run home from where I
was hit, I didn’t feel much pain but when I sat down on my bed, I could feel it
beginning to set in. Nothing was broken,
and I was relatively unscathed except for a couple of minor scrapes from when I
fell onto the pavement. All I had was some
pain in my right calf, so I grabbed an ice pack and applied it to the painful
area to avoid potential swelling. “Holy
shit!” I thought to myself. “I just got
hit by a truck while running!” I took a few minutes to be thankful for the
miraculous outcome of this situation.
All I had was some pain in my calf and a few scrapes. The thought of how much worse this situation
could have been made my stomach turn. I
then scolded myself for how careless I had been by not looking more carefully
when crossing the road. Sure, the guy in
the truck was at fault, but I could have easily prevented that from happening,
had I been more diligent in looking before crossing the road. Overall, I was incredibly thankful. I ran with a limp for a few days, but
gradually the pain worked itself out. From
that moment on, I not only crossed streets with extreme scrutiny, but I always
waived to people in cars when they gave me the right of way. It may seem strange, but I guess it’s a
subconscious way of me saying “thank you for not hitting me”.
Cars continued to wiz by and despite the wide bike lane, I
still stayed as far to the right as I could.
The road was to my left, and to my right, a solid rock wall. My wife had asked me before I began this trek
if running on the PCH was safe. I told
her that it had a bike lane, so yes, it is, provided the drivers are paying
attention. I felt safe as I looked ahead
towards the ocean, the blue sky, and the coastline in front of me. Houses sat in the hills of Malibu to my right
in the distance. The beautiful setting, with the help of my body being in
motion, helped completely abate the pain from my guardrail fall. As I continued up the road, I came upon a gas
station. I couldn’t carry much, but I
thought it was a great opportunity to get some water and a small helping of
snacks for the hike. I went inside and
purchased a couple of bananas, an apple and large bottle of water. With the bottle of water in hand, and the
food crammed into my hydration pack, I resumed forward progress. Ten minutes later, I was startled by a car
horn. I turned around to see my wife’s
car approaching with several passengers, including our friends, Brady, and
another dog. By this point, I was
getting pretty worn out, so I was happy that they picked me up when they
did. I jumped into the backseat and we
drove off to the trailhead.
A few hours later, we arrived back at our car after a nice
hike to Escondido Falls with the dogs. I
didn’t say anything, but I was relieved to be done. I’ve never felt worse after going on a run
than I did before, but that particular run took a bit of a toll on me,
physically. It won’t be the last time I
get hurt while running, but thankfully, after that morning’s mishap, I managed
to walk away without any major injuries.
The reality is that accidents will happen but all I can do is be as
careful as I can and remember that safety comes first.
