Basic Pedestrian Safety

One of the things you learn as a runner, or any kind of pedestrian really, is that you can't trust cars. I have had my share of close calls in the past, and have learned some things along the way. For example, a car making a right turn is usually looking to their left into oncoming traffic, and so you should never assume that they see you coming from the right. Also, cars do not always stop before they reach the stop sign; they frequently overshoot. Because most cars are bigger than most people, by quite a lot, if you a a person and not a car you need to be on the defensive at all times. The two basic strategies for avoiding accidents are:

1. Always assume that the car does not see you.
   
   
2. Always make eye contact with a driver before moving in front of them.

But as a runner who doesn't like to slow down or stop any more than necessary, you tend to pick up on little ways you can get around this ultra-defensiveness, by observing typical behavior. I don't like to have to stop and wait at every singe cross street or parking lot entrance, and so I know what I can usually get away with. One thing that I subconsciously trust is that people slow down before exiting out onto a street. It seems like a rule of thumb that everyone should follow - no matter how quiet the street, there is always the possibility of cars or dog walkers or runners approaching from the side, and even if you ignore stop signs (which I've been known to do in certain cases), you at least give pause to make sure you don't do anything stupid.

This morning I realized that I am very wrong about that, and I remembered, once again, that because cars are bigger than humans, you cannot trust them at all. Because most likely they will not fail your trust, but if they do it can be disastrous to fatal.

It's interesting to me how when you're faced with a dangerous situation, time seems to slow down. I think it actually only slows down in retrospect. Faced with danger, you process much more than you normally do, and when you look back after returning to your normal processing speed and realize just how much you picked up, thought, felt in such a short period of time, it seems like time must have somehow stretched to accommodate all of it. So here is everything that I remember happening in a time frame of what couldn't have been much more than one second, maybe two. Maybe.

First, you should know that a moment beforehand I had noticed a car coming from an apartment parking lot towards the sidewalk I was running along, and had judged that, because they would inevitably (I thought) slow down before getting to the sidewalk/street, I had plenty of time to make it past them. Okay, here's the one-second interval:

First, I realize that I misjudged the distance of the car, but my momentum is such that I have no choice but to keep plowing forward. Then I realize that the car is not slowing like they are supposed to, but I can't do much about it and now they're going to see that there's a runner right in front of them and put on the brakes - it will be close, but I'll be fine. And then I realize that even though I am right there in full view in front of them they have not seen me and are, in fact, speeding up. Let me tell you there is not much that is more terrifying than being about 2 feet in front of a car that is not only not slowing down but appears to be accelerating. Thoughts like, "This is it, this is going to be the time when I really do get hit," and "I'm going to die or be seriously hurt," and "so much for going an entire running season without an injury" cross through my mind in rapid succession as I simultaneously speed up myself, veer slightly to my left (away from the car), and put out my hand in defense (like that will stop anything). And in that instant the driver of the car realizes that he/she is within inches of plowing into a human being and slams on the brakes, and because I'd managed to dance just a couple feet to the side with surprising agility (thank goodness for adrenaline), my right hand bangs against the top of the car and the rest of me comes away without any contact whatsoever.

Once I stopped shaking and started on my way again, and began replaying the event in my mind, I realized that even imagining it made it seem like it took much longer to happen than it did, like the car was going much slower than it actually was. Trust me it was not, it was barreling towards me, and I am still amazed that I was not hit. Truthfully, they were probably not going fast enough to do any lasting damage, but I can visualize myself slamming into the car, flying over the hood, rolling onto the ground, and I don't think I would have escaped without some nasty bruising and possibly even a broken rib or two. Then again, maybe I would have just walked away - you never know. But when I approached my apartment complex 20 minutes later, and saw a police car and a firetruck and an ambulance just outside the parking lot, where a cyclist had just been hit by a car or something and was lying on a stretcher, it chilled me a little.

So I'm absolutely fine, if a little shaken. But to all those people I know who run or bike or walk or drive (basically, everyone), be careful out there. It just takes a split second of losing concentration or a slight misjudgment. Close calls are much more common than accidents, but it takes very little for a close call to turn into something much worse.