Safety First

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.